Dragon Chaser
by WhatWldMrsWeasleyDo
Summary: “The Dark Lord’s gone,” he said, staring into Draco’s eyes, “time to move on, forget about the past. Make love not war.” After the war Malfoy needs a friend. His name does mean 'dragon', who can he find who likes dragons? Slash smut, romance and angst.
1. Chapter 1

PROLOGUE: The Past Was Dark.

The only light was dragon flames. Charlie was forced backwards nearly as far as the Forbidden Forest by an angry Horntail. He rallied and drove her back to her nest. She hadn't liked the journey.

His colleagues were working on the other three dragons. All in all, the humans were winning. He made eye contact and walked slowly backwards to test her response. Good. She wasn't following. For the first time in over an hour, he felt cool night air on his cheeks and realised how hot his face had got.

In the relative quiet, he made out the faint sound of shifting leaves behind him. He turned. Not much light and he was pretty well hidden, but still: "You're Lucius Malfoy's boy, aren't you?" The youngster didn't answer, but stood up defiantly. Charlie continued, "You're not supposed to be here."

The boy sneered, saying, "You must be a Weasley, looking like that."

He was no older than Ron, maybe younger. Thirteen? Fourteen? But he was showing no fear of the fierce dragons only a few feet away.

"Spying for one of the Hogwarts Champions?" Charlie asked.

"Them!" The Malfoy boy's voice was full of venom and contempt. "You're as stupid as your brothers!" He turned sharply and strode away into the dark school grounds.

"And you're as rude as your father!" Charlie called after him. And almost as gorgeous, he added to himself.

CHAPTER ONE: The War Is Over.

"Are you going to stand there staring all day, or are you going in?"

The pale young man started and glanced up briefly at the red-head. But he said nothing.

"I'm sure we can find something in there to cheer you up," Charlie Weasley persisted.

Draco Malfoy looked like he needed it. His eyes and his hair were lifeless, his skin almost translucently pale, with blackheads round his nose and chin. He stopped looking over at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and dropped his gaze to the floor instead.

"Come on! I'll go in with you if you …"

"There's no point," Draco cut him off. "George won't serve me."

Draco waited for the older man to go away. He was in his mid-twenties, with straight red hair to his shoulders and twinkling blue eyes. His crumpled blue cotton shirt was pushed up at the sleeves and unbuttoned at the neck, revealing a good covering of muscle and more freckles than should have been human. He stayed, looking at the sad, lost teenager for a few minutes.

"What were you after?" Charlie asked, after a pause. "I'll go in and get it for you."

Draco looked up then, returning Charlie's gaze warily.

"You're Draco, aren't you?" Charlie said softly, "I'm Charlie."

"I know."

"Your name means 'dragon'. I like dragons."

"I know," Draco said again, but more warmly. "I wanted to get something for my mother. But I've been barred from all the shops. And …" and screamed at, spat at, slapped. His pride wouldn't let him say it. Instead he finished with "… and Knockturn Alley's all closed up."

"What was it exactly you were thinking Narcissa Malfoy might want from George's place? U-No-Poo? Puking pastilles? A wand that turns into a rubber chicken?" Charlie asked incredulously.

The lightest ghost of a smile tickled Draco's face. "No," he said, "I thought she might like a Pygmy Puff." To fuss over instead of me.

"All the girls love Pygmy Puffs!" Charlie chuckled. "What colour? They've expanded the colour range. Almost any colour you want!"

"I don't know," Draco answered, haltingly. He pulled his money from his cloak and stared at it a moment before thrusting the whole bag towards the other man. Charlie raised one eyebrow, making him look heartbreakingly like Fred. Then he accepted the money and crossed the road.

Fred. Another death. Draco wished that the past eighteen months could have hardened him to grief. He hadn't even liked Fred Weasley much. Professor Lupin, he'd admired. Lupin's wife he hadn't known, but she'd been his cousin and now he never would know her. And Vince Crabbe. In some ways he hadn't been up to much, but he'd always been around.

The war was over. The Malfoys had lost. He was meant to be going back to Hogwarts in a couple of weeks. But he didn't know if he could face the place. His favourite teacher, Professor Snape, was dead. Dumbledore, dead. Aunt Bellatrix, dead. Harry Potter, alive.

He pulled himself back to the sunny present as Charlie came out of the shop and towards him, holding up a small cage for Draco's inspection. The fluff-ball inside was mostly white, with grey eyes.

"What do you think?" Charlie asked jovially, "I thought she might like it 'cos it looks like you."

Draco looked into the cage again. The cute, soft ball was purring happily and jumping around. He decided not to reply.

"Butterbeer or ice cream?" Charlie asked. Draco looked confused. "How are we going to spend your change? Not going to choose? Ice cream it is then!"

Charlie strode off towards the newly re-opened Fortescue's. He's dead, too, Draco thought. Instead of sinking back into melancholy, he followed Charlie. He's got my money and my Pygmy Puff, he reasoned.

When they got inside the ice cream parlour, Charlie handed him the cage and told him to find them a table. They both knew the waitress wasn't going to serve a Malfoy. Draco found the most obscure table he could. He was sick of being stared at.

As he sauntered over to sit down, Charlie asked, "Aren't you worried about being in a dark corner with a poof?"

Draco's eyes widened, but Charlie indicated the cage, "I meant Puff." He smiled.

They smiled at each other.

But then Charlie said, "Although it is only fair to warn you that I am a …"

"I was rather hoping you were," Draco interrupted.

They smiled at each other again. The silence was too comfortable, so Draco broke it:

"Are you still working with dragons?" he asked. That was pathetic! He sounded like his father. That was only one step away from 'And what do you do?'

"Not for a couple of months, but I'm back to Romania next week. Just on a tour of friends and relations before I head back, staying at the Leaky Cauldron for a few days to catch up with people round London."

"You came back for the Battle?"

"Yeah, but the war's over now," Charlie reassured Draco, "we're all friends again, aren't we?"

Draco barked a dry laugh. He stared resentfully towards the street. "Not many people would agree with that." His voice was shaking. Then he lowered his gaze and added, quietly, "Not that I deserve any different." He was unaware that his right hand had moved to his left forearm.

Charlie was fascinated, he stared at the pale, dry skin on the boy's left arm. He moved to touch it, but Draco pulled away.

"May I?" Charlie asked, "Can you still see …?"

Draco shook his head to answer the second question, but extended his arm across the table. Charlie pushed up the grubby sleeve of what had once been a white robe. He stroked the skin there. He couldn't see or feel any scarring. It was a disappointment, there was something a bit kinky about a Dark Mark.

They pulled apart as the waitress dumped their ice cream on the table. She looked at Charlie with disgust, then at Draco with loathing. She said nothing and walked away.

"Why are you being nice to me?" Draco asked and added, in a rush, "Don't you know what I've done? I nearly killed two of your brothers, I didn't mean to but I poisoned Ron and I let Greyback into Hogwarts. And it was my family's fault that Ginny was in the Chamber and that Nagini got your Dad. I belittled your family every day I was at school, cheated at Quidditch, tricked them into trouble, spied on the DA and I'm a Muggle-hating, Pureblood-loving, Dark wizard …"

"You tried to get Hagrid sacked," Charlie added, calmly.

"What?" Draco lost his train of self-loathing.

"You didn't mention Hagrid: sacked, imprisoned, death sentences on his pets. Mostly down to you and your Dad. I like Hagrid."

"Really? Yes, Hagrid, right. So why, then …"

"And Harry. I like Harry."

"Potter? I hate Potter. So, answer me. Why are you here with me then?" Draco asked again.

Infuriatingly, instead of answering, Charlie said, "The ice cream's melting. Vanilla with white chocolate sauce and silver sprinkles. Reminds me of you." Charlie filled a spoon.

Draco looked into the bowl. One bowl, two spoons.

"Cold?" he asked.

"Sweet," Charlie answered, putting a laden spoon in Draco's mouth before he could reply. "The Dark Lord's gone," he said, staring into Draco's eyes, "time to move on, forget about the past. Make love not war." He held eye contact, slowly pulling the spoon out from between the thin lips.

The Leaky Cauldron was an easy walk away, but they decided to Apparate rather than walking through the bar full of good witches and wizards. It had been a nice room, but Charlie had managed to spread his belongings over most of the floor. He stepped swiftly over to the door, locking it with a key as well as a spell.

Then he walked over to the bed, catching Draco's hand on the way and pulling him along too. Draco was stunned by the pace at which things were now moving.

"Now, let me have a proper look at you," Charlie said, pushing Draco onto the bed. He stood back, his eyes darting over the pale youth, the hunger in them plain now.

"Take your clothes off," Charlie commanded and Draco was surprised to find himself obeying orders. The alternatives were to be alone or go home. He pulled the unkempt robe over his head, looking anxious.

Charlie purred reassuringly, "Don't worry, if you're not happy with anything at any point then we'll stop," he lied.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry Potter and all characters, settings and situations in this story is © J. K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, Scholastic, Bloomsbury, and all others involved.

* * *

There Are No Death Eaters Any More.

"Good morning, Mum!" George called out, appearing in the fireplace of The Burrow early the next day. Officially, he still lived above the shop, but he was spending most mealtimes and a lot of nights at his parents' place. Nobody said anything.

Keeping her eyes on the sausages in the frying pan, Molly replied, "Morning, George. How are you this morning?"

"Fine," George replied. I just feel as though half of me is missing and my heart's stopped. I can't sleep and I'm doing the work of two because hiring an assistant would feel like I was replacing him.

George sat down at the scrubbed kitchen table, where Percy was already tucking into a large fry-up. He had come in from work too exhausted to eat the night before.

"Morning Percy," said George, "How's it going?"

"Fine," Percy replied. Still eaten up with guilt for having betrayed the family for so long, working long hours at a harrowing job in some sort of attempt to pay the Order back for the Resistance I never managed.

"Will you have a sausage, George? Or just some toast?" Molly asked in a light tone. She kept trying to coax him to eat more.

"Sausage would be lovely, Mum, thanks," George replied, because he knew he'd be able to tip it onto Percy's plate when she wasn't looking.

Once George had his sausage, Molly took a cup of tea up the stairs to wake Arthur. George leaned towards his brother and Percy sat up hopefully, thinking, stupidly that he was about to be teased.

"You know Angelina and Alicia have taken on the ice cream parlour?" He began.

Percy slumped again. George hadn't told a joke since the Battle of Hogwarts.

"Doing a good job, I hear," he answered, confused by George's conspiratorial tone.

"Well apparently they had …" George broke off, sighed, tried again, "Charlie was in there."

"He's staying at the Leaky Cauldron. I'm meeting him for lunch."

George checked the door. "I know," he said.

Percy tried to work out why Charlie shouldn't be eating ice cream. Then understanding dawned.

"He was with someone?" Percy asked.

George nodded. He looked like he might cry or be sick.

"It's horrible, Percy," he said. "It was Draco Malfoy. She said they were touching each other, flirting. I mean, what's that scum doing with our Charlie? Twisted pervert. Just 'cos Charlie's never had a steady girlfriend doesn't mean … Charlie's too nice, he won't understand how evil that little tosser can be. I could throw that runt a lot further than I'd trust him."

"You want me to warn him?" Percy asked.

"I know it's stupid. I should be able to talk to him myself. It's just that … he's still my big brother the Quidditch captain. You know. We idolised him. I can't go up to him now and ask him if he's bumming a Death Eater."

"They're all ex-Death Eaters now," Percy reminded him.

"That's Ministry mouthwash and you know it. Malfoy is darkness in human form." George stabbed at his sausage fiercely.

There was no point in arguing with George. In fact, anger was an improvement on his recent moods. George looked at the sausage. Percy held his breath. Was he actually going to eat it? Then they both heard their parents' steps on the stairs and George hurriedly scraped the sausage onto Percy's plate.

* * *

Percy walked out of the midday sun into the gloom of the bar. He spotted Charlie, on a bar stool, already half-way through a pint.

"Hey! Percy! What can I get you? Do you want to look at the menu or would you rather go somewhere else?"

"I have to say something first," Percy said heavily, sitting down.

How did Percy always find things out? Charlie wasn't going to inflate his ego by asking. He just put down his pint, resigned.

Percy spoke softly: "I'm sure you think you know what you're doing. And he may look the same as your usual now. But he isn't. He's damaged and dangerous. He was virtually Voldemort's apprentice. God knows what Dark Magic he's learnt."

Charlie picked up his pint again, "I thought the Ministry wanted us to all forgive and forget."

"I don't blame him," Percy said earnestly. Charlie looked sceptical. Percy continued, "I know most people do. But, Charlie, the thing is that next week you'll be back in Romania and it'll be the rest of us left here with the consequences. There's no telling how bad they could be. You dump this one and he could destroy the lot of us. You can't do this to him. Not with what he knows and what's happened to him. No!" he answered the question on Charlie's face. "Ministry files are confidential."

"I could look after him," Charlie tried.

Percy gave a dry laugh, then said, "That's hardly your forté. Just end it quickly and kindly. Now get me a bitter lemon and the menu and we'll talk about other things until I have to go back to work.

Three quarters of an hour later, Charlie was sitting in the sun with his third pint, working out where he could take Draco that evening. He could try to take him through the Leaky Cauldron into Muggle London, but, given his politics, Draco was unlikely to be keen. Anywhere wizard, though, and they would have to put up with the poisonous stares. They could just stay in Charlie's room. But he felt the need to feed Draco. I'm turning into my mother, Charlie thought. Except she doesn't feed Death Eaters and then shag their brains out. At least I hope she doesn't.

Dangerous? Draco? Voldemort's apprentice? He couldn't reconcile Percy's description to his memory of the pale, broken boy who'd cuddled up to him the afternoon before. They'd spent a couple of hours just lying together. Charlie had surprised himself by not minding. He had wrapped his arm round Draco's chest, and been alarmed by how his ribs jutted. He noticed just how underfed the teenager was, how dry his skin, how lank his hair.

It had been Draco who had eventually left the bed, dressing speedily and apologising that his parents were expecting him home. He'd grabbed the Pygmy Puff cage and Apparated away. As soon as he'd gone, Charlie realised that they hadn't arranged to meet again.

Charlie had spent the first few hours of today unable to get on with anything, distracted by thoughts of Draco. And then, looking out of his window, over Diagon Alley, he'd seen him. The blond hair had been washed and brushed and he was wearing a pristine summer-weight robe in Slytherin green. End it quickly and kindly? Too late already. It could have annoyed Charlie, the neediness of the boy, just standing outside the pub, waiting. But from Draco somehow it didn't.

He'd been about to raise his window and wave, when the shop assistant from the Owl Emporium opposite had deliberately shaken a sheet covered in droppings over Draco. Charlie thought it would be best to pretend he hadn't witnessed that humiliation. He dressed and ran downstairs instead, surprising himself with his own eagerness. When he stepped out into the street and saw his beautiful boy, he had to stop himself from grinning so hard.

Draco answered with a shy smile. He covered this with a cool toss of the head and said, "I know we're both very busy." Charlie knew that actually neither of them had much to do, but he nodded. Draco continued, "But as I was in the area I thought I'd just check if you were free this evening."

So Charlie had a few hours to plan and prepare. He didn't think Tom would send food up to the room and Charlie couldn't cook, even if there had been facilities up there. So it was looking like take-away. It could be Muggle, Draco wouldn't know.

When they met again at seven o'clock, Charlie was carrying a couple of kebabs. It was still light and warm, so they ignored the glares and strolled down Diagon Alley to Knockturn Alley. Draco was right, most of the shops were boarded up and all were empty. They ate their kebabs, and looked around.

"Where have they all gone?" Charlie asked.

"I know some are still alive and out of jail. They must be lying low. Not a good time to be of our persuasion," Draco answered quietly, adding, "I used to love it here. It was probably my favourite place." He wandered sadly from window to window, trying to peer in, ignoring his food.

"They'll be back," Charlie said, "When the heat dies down."

"Won't be the same," Draco said, shaking his head, "well, I won't be the same."

Then Charlie stood behind him and put his arms round him. Their reflections stared back, hollow eyed, from the plate glass of Madame Nightshade's Cornucopia. Charlie nuzzled into Draco's neck. Then Draco turned round and kissed him. Charlie had never before spent so long just kissing. Draco's mouth was small but very warm.

Once back in the room at The Leaky Cauldron, Charlie took hold of the younger man's hands and stared into his eyes. The sad, grey eyes looked straight back. Charlie raised his right arm, thus lifting Draco's left so that his sleeve slid to his elbow. Charlie licked the skin where the Dark Mark had been. Then he let go of Draco and crossed over to the trunk under the window. He had taken some time over the afternoon to tidy up and now most of his possessions were in the trunk.

Charlie pulled out a battered, leather backpack. Draco asked what it was.

"My dragon kit," Charlie answered, carrying it over to the bed, where he searched through the contents. He pulled out a white tub.

"Moisturiser?" Draco asked incredulously. "What do the other dragon tamers make of that?"

Charlie laughed and shook his head.

"You can't tame a dragon," he said.

Draco lifted his chin and curled his lip: "And don't you forget it!" he said haughtily, a glimpse of his boyhood arrogance passing over his face. "Why are you grinning like that?" he demanded. "Don't shake your head."

"Come here," Charlie said, patting the bed.

"No, you come here."

So Charlie did. And he started to smooth the moisturiser onto Draco's arms - one at a time, paying particular attention to the flaking skin of his elbows and knuckles.

"You don't take care of yourself," he murmured.

Draco looked panicked. "You don't like my body?"

"Of course I do."

"But I ought to look after it better?" Draco asked.

Charlie answered, "No, there's no need. I'll look after you now."

* * *

Charlie pushed his fingers into Draco's long, sweet-smelling hair and pulled him into a kiss. Draco responded enthusiastically, wrapping his arms round Charlie's waist. They fell onto the bed together. They had been lovers for two weeks now. Charlie had forgotten to go back to Romania and Draco was trying to forget that school started again in a week.

Draco unbuttoned Charlie's jeans and Charlie pushed up Draco's robes. Already, his bones were less visible and his skin smoother. Charlie planted kisses from nipples to navel, where he sucked in soft tummy flesh, leaving a red mark. He stroked the pale skin of thigh and whispered, "Oh, Lucius!"

Draco had leapt from the bed, adjusted his clothing and Apparated away before Charlie realised what he'd said.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry Potter and all characters, settings and situations in this story is © J. K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, Scholastic, Bloomsbury, and all others involved.

It Is Safe To Say His Name

Percy had worked through lunch again. He'd been collecting a deposition from a witch who'd lost her husband and both children to Voldemort's supporters. Tears had made her frequently incoherent but she'd been determined to go on and had distrusted the _Pensieve _system. By the time she had left it was mid-afternoon and he had no appetite. He was going to write it all up, cross-reference and file before going home. Hopefully he'd be ready for his mother's cooking later.

And then Charlie's head appeared in the fire. Percy had been very proud to be allocated an office with a fireplace. They were usually given to much more senior people, but Minister Shacklebolt himself had said that Percy's new project would demand it. In the two months since it had become the conduit for dozens of distressed, fragile and sometimes evil people and their war stories.

And now Charlie. Which was unlikely to be good news, especially looking so distraught.

"Weren't you supposed to go back to work last week?" Percy snapped. He'd spent all day being sympathetic.

"I Owled them. It's OK," Charlie answered, then he said miserably, "I need your help."

"What have you done now?"

"Something really stupid. Can I Floo through?"

Percy stared at the face in the flames for a few moments and seriously considered refusing. But Charlie looked so sad. But didn't he always when things went wrong? And wasn't it about time he started cleaning up after himself? Or would he just turn to another member of the family which wouldn't be fair on them?

"Go on then," Percy conceded ungraciously, charming the network to allow Charlie through.

When Charlie got into the office, he sank to the floor and dropped his head into his hands.

"Drop the dramatics!" Percy ordered.

"He's gone," Charlie moaned, "I can't find him."

"You'd better not be talking about Draco Malfoy," Percy growled. "Didn't I warn you?"

Percy gripped the desk in front of him, Charlie lifted his head so he could appeal directly to Percy's unsympathetic face.

"I've looked everywhere in London, Perce. Well, not Muggle places, 'cos he wouldn't go anywhere with Muggles …"

"Oh, he's a reformed character, then," Percy injected, sarcastically.

"This is the last place. I can't search the Ministry. I've Owled all over too, sent loads to Malfoy Manor …"

Percy rubbed at his tired face. "Go on, then. Tell me. I mean, I'd love to think that he'd just got bored and dumped you but that never seems to be the way it goes with you. What did you do?"

Charlie chewed his lip and looked away. Percy got up from his chair and moved round the desk to watch his brother properly.

Very quietly Charlie admitted, "I said the wrong name."

"I assume this was at some inappropriately intimate moment," Percy said in a voice full of exasperation. Charlie nodded.

"And was it a particularly cruel wrong name?"

Charlie nodded again.

"You might as well tell me," Percy prompted, worried about what he would hear.

"I said 'Lucius'."

Percy's face went crimson and he exploded with anger in a way Charlie had only ever seen Molly do before.

"You called him by his father's name while you were on the job?" he yelled. "You insensitive moron! He's going to destroy you and everyone around you! You selfish, stupid, inadequate …"

Charlie tried to placate his brother with, "I know, I know."

"We'll just have to warn everyone and wait for the fireworks. I can't dig you out of this one, big brother," Percy explained, only slightly more calmly.

"No! You have to … I mean I want you to, need you to help me find him. I can't live … I don't want to live without him. I really like him," Charlie pleaded.

Well, this was new. Percy concentrated on his breathing, tried to calm down.

"And if I find him, then what do you do?" Percy asked.

"Apologise," Charlie answered.

"Do you know how? Is it in your repertoire?"

"But I really am really sorry. I'll just tell him that. I can't believe it happened. Except that it's the sort of stupid thing I do do. It's so wrong. He's special. He's different. I've never said that before, have I?" he asked Percy.

Percy had to admit that this was true. Against all his self-protective instincts he agreed to help. He sent Charlie back to his room just in case Draco showed up there, and put out a blanket internal and external Ministry Information Request.

Within twenty minutes another head appeared in Percy's fire.

"Hello Aberforth. Ready to give me your deposition?" Percy asked.

"You know how I feel about that, Weasley junior. The Ministry should leave well alone, let folks get on with their lives instead of raking up the past. No, I've got your missing person in the bar downstairs," Aberforth Dumbledore replied.

About to launch into his 'Truth and Reconciliation' speech, Percy was wrong-footed.

"Draco Malfoy? In the Hog's Head? Are you sure?" he spluttered.

"I'm sure. He's trying to drink himself out of consciousness. I've seen him like this before over the years, when he was at the school. Glad to get your message, actually. My _Temporary Sobriety Charm _might have fooled Severus Snape, but Lucius Malfoy'd be a different matter. I don't want him out to hex me." Aberforth chuckled and started to withdraw his head.

"I'll Floo through!" Percy called out.

Aberforth was waiting for him at the top of the stairs.

"Do I want to know what he's so unhappy about?" he asked Percy.

"Probably not," Percy replied.

"Not your department, is it, Missing Persons? And he's of age."

Percy didn't answer.

"You got mixed up in something to do with your brother Charlie again?" the old man asked. Reluctantly, Percy nodded.

"Then I don't want to know," Aberforth decided, turning and leading the way into the bar.

It was a mid-afternoon out of term time. There were less than a handful of customers. Most of them were doing their best to look inconspicuous. So it was easy to spot the inebriated, delicate youth sprawled along the bar, surrounded by full and empty shot glasses.

"Hello, Draco," Percy said gently.

Draco looked up, tried to focus, failed and muttered, "You were a Prefect."

"That's right. I think you've had enough …"

"I was a prefect," Draco slurred, "for a year. Then I wasn't."

Yes, trying to murder the Headmaster will do that, Percy thought. What he said was: "I'm Percy Weasley. I'm his brother, remember?"

Draco raised a glass and shouted out: "No! I drink to forget!" He downed the Firewhiskey. Then he pouted and whined, "Did he tell you?"

"Yes he did," said Percy, with an exaggerated calm, "but we don't need to tell everyone in the pub, do we?"

Draco raised his head and looked around as though he'd forgotten where he was. He reached for another glass. Percy pulled his wand out and rapidly fired the remaining full glasses along the bar to where Aberforth was cleaning glasses.

"He's paid for them," stated the old barman.

"You can keep it," Percy grunted.

Aberforth shrugged and charmed the drinks back into the bottle.

"If you're not careful, you'll fall off that stool and then everyone will laugh at you," Percy told Draco bluntly. Draco sat upright with concentrated care. Percy had just recognised Mundungus Fletcher among the clientele. Dung was never good news. He wanted to get Draco away as soon as possible.

"Let's go to a different pub, Draco," he said softly.

"The Leaky Cauldron?" Draco asked.

Percy thought through whether to tell him and then nodded. "He's really sorry," Percy whispered, adding "I've never seen him like this before. Can I help you get down?"

Draco mustered all his drunk dignity and slid elegantly to the floor. Percy steered him towards the stairs. Just before they left the bar, he turned to thank Aberforth and ask his permission to Floo out. He got a shrug as an answer.

Draco stared at the fireplace. "If we Floo, I'll have to walk through to get to his room. Past people," he said reasonably, but with poor diction.

"If you try to Apparate in this state you'll splinch yourself," Percy answered, more reasonably.

There was a pause. Percy looked at the pretty, bedraggled boy and suddenly felt overwhelming pity for him.

"Is everything alright? I he kind to you?" he asked. "Is he gentle enough?"

Draco considered the question for a moment. And then a realisation and a fear swamped his body, freezing his blood and sobering him for a moment.

"How do you know?" he asked Percy.

Percy couldn't believe how stupid he'd been. He shouldn't have said anything.

"Perpetrator deposition," he answered, awkwardly. "I'm at the Ministry. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said …"

"Who else knows?" Draco demanded. He looked terrified.

"Nobody. I'm the only one with access to the files. I haven't, I won't tell anyone." Percy answered.

Draco leaned over and threw up. All over Aberforth's floor. Percy wanted to hold him up, support him, but he didn't know if he would want to be touched.

Draco straightened up. "Weren't we going somewhere?" he asked coldly, wiping his mouth.

"Side-Along OK?" Percy asked.

Draco nodded stiffly so Percy performed some quick cleaning charms, respectfully took Draco's arm and spun.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry Potter and all characters, settings and situations in this story is © J. K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, Scholastic, Bloomsbury, and all others involved.

Author's note: In this chapter I use the word "pissed" in the British sense, meaning 'drunk'. Draco doesn't mean he's 'angry'.

All chapter titles are taken from the Ministry of Magic pamphlet, _Towards Tomorrow Together _by Percy Weasley.

* * *

Peace Reigns Everywhere

It was a dusty corridor in late afternoon. Percy let go of Draco's arm, knocked on the door in front of them and Disapparated. The crack made Draco's ears ring. He was feeling nauseated and disturbed. He stared straight ahead. Charlie stared back. He stood in the now open doorway, looking sheepish.

"You coming in?" he asked.

Draco shrugged. He wasn't capable of making a decision.

"I'm pissed," he answered.

In a shaky voice, Charlie asked, "Where have you been?"

"Getting pissed," Draco replied. He rubbed at his chin. Dried vomit. Nice.

Charlie said, "I'm really, really so sorry. I can't even believe how sorry I am. It was unforgivable, I wouldn't forgive me, but you have to."

It didn't quite make sense, but maybe that was the alcohol. Draco couldn't remember why he didn't want to go into Charlie's room. And the more he looked at Charlie's sad, freckled, blue-eyed, apologetic face, the less he remembered.

"I'm too pissed, Charlie. I feel sick," he whined. He pushed past Charlie into the room, brushing against his muscular shoulders. Percy had made him feel icy but seeing Charlie made him warm and tired. Draco scraped off his shoes, slumped onto the bed and went to sleep.

He woke late in the evening with a raging thirst, a pounding headache and a full bladder. When he moved, his brain and body lurched unpleasantly. He staggered to the loo. Unsure of his balance, he sat down and closed his eyes.

Then there was a comforting hand stroking his back and a cool glass at his lips. He opened his sore eyes: Charlie, of course.

"Drink that," Charlie said. "You'll feel better."

Draco drank the potion and then several glasses of water. "This doesn't mean I've forgiven you," he warned. He felt drowsy, but the sickness and headache eased. Charlie slid one arm under his shoulders and the other under his knees. Gently, he carried him back to the bed.

The next time Draco woke it was deep, dark night. He was on top of the bedding, fully clothed, and so was Charlie, propped up on one elbow, watching him.

"How do you feel?"

"Fine," Draco answered. "I'd like the recipe for that potion."

"You'd be better off drinking less Firewhiskey."

"I like potions," Draco insisted, closing his eyes again. "I mean they're an interest of mine."

"I'll get you the recipe then," Charlie conceded. He stroked Draco's forehead.

Draco dozed lightly for a couple of minutes. He wished he was still tired enough to sleep. Awake, he had to face things. He opened his eyes and faced Charlie.

"I hate you," he said.

"You should do," Charlie agreed.

"I think you apologised last night, but it's a bit blurry."

"I did. And I'll keep doing it 'til you forgive me. I am the most sorry I've ever been about anything ever. I thought I'd lost my favourite thing. You," Charlie said, honestly.

"Why did you say his name?" Draco asked.

"I don't know. I'm stupid," Charlie answered.

You do know. And so do I, Draco thought. If you knew him you wouldn't even like him. But he said nothing.

They lay beside each other, not touching, watching each other in silence.

Eventually Charlie said, "Tell me what to do to make things right again."

Draco languidly stretched out an arm, palm flat and empty, saying, "The head of Harry Potter on a plate would do it."

Charlie shook his head slowly. Draco pouted, then stretched his arms above his head and tried for a bored, resigned voice as he said, "Oh, well, while I'm thinking about it you might as well try a blow job I suppose."

Charlie grinned, thinking he'd been forgiven. Eagerly, he pushed up Draco's robes. The same silk boxer shorts, though it felt like so long ago. Charlie eased them down again.

Later still, Draco woke with a start which woke Charlie. Grey light and birdsong were coming through the curtains. He sat up in a panic and said, "I forgot to go home!"

"They won't be up yet, if you sneak into bed now they'll think you were there all night. That's what we used to do," Charlie answered drowsily.

But Draco, pale and scared, shook his head, bit his lip, explained in a whisper, "I don't have the password, they won't give me it, I have to Apparate to the front door and knock. They know. I'm in trouble."

From the way he said it, Charlie knew he didn't mean a bollocking or a grounding. He pulled the rigid, skinny, naked body to him, tried to surround it with his own warmth, his strength. Draco didn't relax, he clung.

* * *

The knocking ceased when the door flew open. The man inside snorted, it wasn't who he was expecting. He looked beyond the ragged man on the doorstep, peering down the path. Then he turned to his visitor with bored disdain.

"What do you want at this time of the morning?" he demanded, looking down his nose in disgust.

"I can do you a favour. But it'll cost you," answered the dishevelled figure.

"Not more of my wife's heirlooms? I'm busy."

"I understand you've lost something. I know who's got it and where they are. Perhaps I should say 'someone'."

He had the other man's full attention now. "You know where he is? This had better be good, Fletcher. I can make you wish …"

"Wish I'd never been born, Mr Malfoy. I know," Mundungus finished for him.

* * *

Charlie and Draco were naked and entwined when the door exploded, admitting an incandescently angry Lucius Malfoy. Draco sprang back and pulled the sheet over him, curling into a ball. Charlie was stilled by shock.

"Draco! Dress! Here! Now!" his father spat.

Terrified, Draco scrambled from the bed and started to gather his clothes hurriedly.

"You stay right where you are, Draco!" Charlie ordered him in a dangerously calm voice, his eyes on Lucius' face, his hand on his wand.

Draco froze, his face snapped round from his father to his lover and then back again.

Somehow Lucius Malfoy discovered a level of fury beyond that in which he had arrived, he pointed his wand at Charlie and screamed, "Filthy, molesting, corruptor of youth! I'm taking my son where he'll be safe!"

"Draco! The trunk! Close it!" Charlie barked, his wand raised, ready.

"Draco! Get dressed!" Lucius countered.

Somehow, trembling, he managed to do both, pulling on his robe while he scuttled to the trunk under the window.

Lucius and Charlie maintained eye contact, their wands trained on each other.

"I iwill/i kill you," Lucius hissed.

Charlie moved slowly sideways. "Hold onto the trunk," he told Draco.

"Don't do anything he tells you!" Lucius thundered. "You're coming home with me and I'm going to lock you in your room and take away your wand and you will learn …" he was ranting when Charlie reached the window, grabbed Draco's shoulder and Apparated.

Draco couldn't be sure if they had finished the Apparition. It was so dark. But cold and a rank smell seeped into him and he realised that his knees were on a solid floor. He let go of the trunk.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry Potter and all characters, settings and situations in this story is © J. K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, Scholastic, Bloomsbury, and all others involved.

Darkness Has Been Vanquished

"Where are we?" Draco asked.

"_Lumos_!" said Charlie. "Welcome to my home!"

His way lit by the wand, Charlie moved to the windows where he opened the shutters. Weak sunlight leaked in through grimy windows. They were in a low-ceilinged room with rubbish-strewn bare wooden floorboards. The furniture was dusty and horse hairs poked through holes in the chintz armchairs. It smelled like something had died. Draco heard scuttling noises.

"I'm in Romania?" Draco asked, appalled.

"Feel free to run home to Daddy."

"I'm in Romania!" Draco said as brightly as he could manage. Charlie opened the windows and cast a fire in the grate. He came back to the trunk and dressed out of it. He checked out Draco's expression.

"It'll be all right," he assured him, "just been shut up for a couple of months. I left in a hurry. I'll sort things out in a minute."

Draco dragged himself to his feet and took himself on a tour. He looked through a door into the bedroom.

"You're a slob!" he called back to Charlie.

"We don't all have House Elves running round after us," Charlie huffed back, adding, "Don't go in the kitchen."

Off the bedroom was the bathroom. Draco reached for his wand to do a cleaning charm, but his wand wasn't there. He couldn't remember where he'd left it. Great! No wand, no change of clothes and he didn't speak Romanian! He wandered miserably back to the sitting room.

A white, ethereal mole appeared, said: "Don't go outdoors," and then disappeared again.

"Percy's," Charlie said.

Draco was beyond feeling any more fear or confusion. He sighed, looked out of the window, and then continued looking round the cottage. He headed for another door.

"Not the kitchen!" Charlie exclaimed urgently.

Draco kept walking. The smell got stronger. The scuttling noises got louder.

Charlie tried a wheedling tone: "I didn't know I was going away. I left in a hurry, didn't have time to wash up."

Draco opened the door. "For how many months?" he asked. "Give me your wand."

Charlie thought he might be about to get hexed. Draco shut the door on the putrefaction and squalor.

"I don't know where mine is. I can't do cleaning charms unless I borrow yours," Draco explained, through gritted teeth.

Charlie thought some things through. "You must have had your wand to Apparate to The Cauldron."

Draco shook his head and explained, "Side-Along."

Charlie looked crest-fallen. "Who?" he managed.

"Percy. You didn't think I'd come back of my own accord?"

Clearly Charlie had thought that. Draco held out an imperious hand expectantly. Charlie put his wand in it. Holding his breath, Draco entered the kitchen. He only lasted ten minutes the first time, before he staggered back out to the relatively clean air of the sitting room, where he found Charlie holding an owl in one hand and something red in the other.

"Open it!" Draco gasped. He knew what would happen otherwise. Charlie let go of the owl and they edged towards each other as he released the seal on the Howler. Molly Weasley's voice filled the room:

"I don't know what you think you're playing at! And with that awful boy of all people. We've had Lucius bloody Malfoy round here shouting and swearing and accusing you of all sorts of indecent acts. He's threatening to kill you if he gets hold of you and your father's almost as disgusted. You ought to be old enough to know better. Why didn't you think things through before you did something this stupid? You're an impulsive idiot and you'll come to no good and then what will I do? I've just lost one son and now you're going to go and get yourself murdered. We're worried sick, nobody knows where you are. Percy's running round trying to sort everything out and it's not like he hasn't got enough work to do at the Ministry. Speaking of which, weren't you supposed to be back at work last week not holed up in some sleazy hotel room doing unmentionable things to a dark wizard half your age?"

They stood silently in each other's arms for several minutes. Then Draco pulled away and moved back to the kitchen.

Two hours later, starving hungry, Charlie was searching in a cupboard for tins of food. Draco had left the shelves gleaming though he had found them full of mould mounds which had once been fruit and bread. Draco had never heard of tinned food before and was very suspicious. There wasn't any.

"You know what's surprisingly clean though?" Draco called over from the other side of the room. Charlie knew but he chose not to answer. Draco answered himself, "This stove hasn't been used, has it?"

Charlie was spared from answering by the loud 'crack' of an Apparition into the next room.

Percy glared at Charlie, but attempted a sympathetic smile for Draco. He was carrying a packing case. Something in it smelled appetising. Draco tried to remember when he'd last eaten. Yesterday breakfast? And then not much because he'd been excited about going to see Charlie. When Draco was miserable he forgot to eat. It was only when he caught the aroma from the packing case that he realised that he'd done it again.

"You have no idea how much trouble you've caused," Percy was telling Charlie, "for the family and poor Draco as well as yourself."

"Why not go outdoors?" Charlie asked instead of responding.

"Mr Malfoy's put out a Location Trace on the pair of you. It's illegal and the Ministry are onto it but it'll take a couple of days to remove. I managed a Remote Protection Charm on this place just in time, so you'll be safe if you stay inside. He's absolutely determined to kill you, you know," Percy said, looking directly at Charlie.

Charlie tried to look casual. "I know," he answered, "and he's going to lock Draco up in his bedroom …"

"Bedroom? Oh no, by the time he'd got to The Burrow he'd remembered the Manor's cellar," Percy said grimly. Draco tried to stifle a whimper. Percy reached into the packing case and pulled out Draco's wand.

"You left that in the Hog's Head," he said, handing it over to the delighted young man. Then he gave Charlie a multi-coloured bundle tied with string. "These were in your room at the Leaky Cauldron. You owe me for settling up there, including a new door." Last of all he dragged up a steaming cauldron. The delicious scent filled the room. "Mum had left-overs. I thought you might be hungry," he explained.

Draco _Accioed_ forks - enjoying the feel of his own wand - and they ate straight out of the cauldron. It was Irish Stew and it couldn't have been any more delicious.

"If you were brought up on food this good, why do you live off that?" Draco eventually asked Charlie, indicating the take-away packaging still surrounding the armchairs. Charlie moved over to start tidying up, and to stop himself from eating Draco's share.

"He's bloody lazy," Percy said loudly, but added quietly to Draco, "and he works really hard."

"It's easy for you, you're living at home," Charlie grumbled.

"I work really hard too," Percy sighed.

"Yes," Draco asked, "what exactly is your job?"

"Minister Shacklebolt wants a full record of the war so that we can move on," Percy explained. "He feels that knowledge is more important than retribution. So he's offering immunity to those who come forward. I collect depositions, either in person or using the _Pensieve_ system. It's just me, to help maintain confidentiality."

"Immunity from prosecution?" Draco asked, looking thoughtfully at the last lumps of potato in the pot.

"Yes. It's based on the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission," Percy replied. He watched Draco's face closely.

"Was there a Wizard War in South Africa?" Charlie asked.

Percy and Draco looked at each other despairingly.

"Wizards can be so bloody insular," Percy muttered.

Draco answered Charlie, "No, darling, it was a Muggle thing. Why don't you take this cauldron into the kitchen and try to work out how to wash it up?"

Charlie escaped gratefully from what was sounding like a boring political conversation.

Once they were alone, Percy told Draco, "Your contribution would be gratefully appreciated."

Draco's expression closed down, "I don't know anything," he said.

Percy persevered, "We're gathering knowledge in case anything similar ever looks like happening. And we're gathering truths so we can face the future together. Look, you can leave out whatever you want, but you spent a lot of time with the Dark Lord. Your information would be invaluable."

"And what makes you think I was anywhere near He Who Must Not Be Named?" Draco asked belligerently.

"Various witnesses," Percy mumbled, "it's confidential." Draco clearly wasn't satisfied with that, so Percy caved in, "Ok, one was Harry Potter."

"Of course!" Draco hissed. "When they were … guests at The Manor."

"But also," Percy added hesitantly, "it's hardly a secret that Harry had this sort of mental link to Lord Voldemort."

The use of the name made Draco wince, but something else filled his eyes with fear. Percy tried to reassure him: "Harry saw through His eyes, only what He or Nagini actually saw."

Draco was partly mollified. Then a strange hope flitted over his features. He thought for a moment, then said slowly, "But he might have heard an order being given?"

Percy shrugged, not following.

Draco took a deep breath and began to babble: "Carrow said it was on orders and if it was then it was my fault but I don't know if it was just because we didn't have protection any more and he knew he could get away with it 'cos the family was fair game in which case it's 'cos he could see I was weak enough …"

Percy put a hand on his shoulder and Draco looked at him as though he had forgotten that he was there.

"Does it matter?" Percy asked.

Draco just nodded and before Percy could probe any more, Charlie returned with the clean cauldron and a bag of Galleons.

Just before Percy left, Charlie clapped him on the back and grunted, "Thanks. For everything. Always."

Percy looked into his brother's eyes, "You sure you're all right?" he asked, seriously.

"Of course!" Charlie answered, full of bravado again.

"Good," said Percy, back to his reprimanding tone, "because you're all he's got now."

Draco dropped an envelope into the cauldron. It had 'Mrs Weasley' written across it in green ink. The two Weasley brothers looked at him questioningly.

"It's just a 'thank you' note. For the stew," Draco answered dismissively.

And then Percy was gone and they were stuck with each other for company again. Charlie collapsed into an armchair. Draco watched him.

"I forgot something," he said.

Charlie raked his hands through his hair, flung his head back and asked, "What now?"

"I forgot to thank you for rescuing me and being so brave and welcoming me into your home."

"Such as it is," Charlie appended, but he was smiling at Draco now.

Draco sat himself in Charlie's lap, "It's going to be fine," he said.

"It'll have to be," Charlie complained, "it looks like we're stuck in here for the next couple of days." He ran his fingers through Draco's silvery fringe.

"Oh dear," Draco said with a mock pout. He wriggled into Charlie's groin and added lasciviously, "However will we manage to pass the time?"


	6. Chapter 6

Harry Potter and all characters, settings and situations in this story is © J. K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, Scholastic, Bloomsbury, and all others involved.

* * *

Experience Cooperation Between Magical Creatures

For centuries wizards had been trying to understand dragons. The largest centre for this work was Vladisoas in Transylvania. The wizard village which had grown up round it was known by the same name. It was full of small, whitewashed cottages like Charlie's to accommodate the Dragon Research, Regulation and Control Operatives, or Dragon Keepers as they preferred to call themselves. All of the other buildings in some way supported the work of the centre or the lifestyles of its employees.

Charlie strolled through the cobbled streets with his arm proudly and protectively over Draco's shoulders. They stopped at the tavern for lunch where Charlie was welcomed back and Draco was introduced. By the time they left, Charlie had solemnly promised a dozen people that he would be back at work the following morning.

Mountains rose all around them and crisp sunlight made the white buildings glow. They approached Charlie's place the back way, crossing a scented meadow and stepping over a clear brook.

Charlie took his broomstick out of a small shed by the back door. He was struck by how little he knew the young man he had transplanted half-way across Europe when he asked, "Do you fly?"

Draco was eyeing the broomstick as he answered with a grin, "Are you kidding? I was House Seeker."

"Cool! So was I! I was Quidditch Captain actually."

"So was I."

"We won the House Cup."

"Yeah, well you weren't playing against Harry Wunderkind Potter," Draco was joking, of course, but he could never say that name without tasting poison.

"He's good?" Charlie asked, having missed the warning signs.

"Is there anything he doesn't excel at? Oh, playing by the same rules as everyone else, maybe. And keeping his temper. And not being a festering sore in my flesh," Draco's eyes were aflame with passion now, his voice a hissing whisper.

"Not keen on him then?" Charlie asked, chuckling to try and break the mood. Draco swallowed and composed himself. Charlie turned his attention to the broomstick while he did so and then said regretfully, "I've only got one stick."

"I got a Firebolt Mega Twelve for my birthday," Draco answered, the love and longing for it obvious in his voice. He caught Charlie's worried expression, though, and added, "But it's the only thing I miss from home. We'll just have to take turns."

"We used to 'two-up' when we were kids. You're only skinny …"

Draco moved up behind Charlie to wrap his arms round his chest and said, "But you're all muscle. The broomstick wouldn't take it." He stroked his boyfriend's muscular arms and shoulders.

* * *

The first time Charlie came in from work injured, Draco was horrified. Charlie's thigh had been gored and he limped, bleeding, into their home. He'd been back at work less than a week. Draco got Charlie into a chair and pulled himself together enough to bathe, dress and apply dittany to the wound. Then he'd hugged his lover and kissed him better.

"Comes with the job," Charlie had said, shrugging, then changed the subject asking, "What's in the parcel?"

"Owl came with it a couple of hours ago," Draco answered. "From some lawyer. Apparently Severus Snape left me them in his Will."

Charlie hobbled over to the coffee table, partly to prove to Draco that he could, and lifted the brown paper. There was a pile of dusty old books under it.

"Nice!" he exclaimed, sarcastically.

"They're really interesting, actually. It's his collection of Potions texts. He thought I could use them," Draco's voice cracked. Charlie swallowed any comments he might have made about their old teacher and went back to hug some more instead.

Four days later, Charlie came home carrying one of his fingers. Draco held back tears as he put it back on, asking, "Does it hurt much?"

Charlie winced and sweated but, again, his answer was a shrug and "Comes with the job." Which is what he said the next week when his back was scratched to ribbons. Two days later he was sent home early because his hair had caught fire. His ear and cheek were badly burnt.

He got as far as "Comes with the …" when Draco smacked his good cheek. Hard.

"Don't say it!" Draco yelled. "Stop saying 'it comes with the job' and start being more damn careful." He turned to the orange coloured Burn-Healing paste he was mixing, to hide his face as added more quietly, "Don't you dare fucking die on me, Charlie Weasley."

Charlie moved closer and put a gentle arm round Draco's waist. He said, softly, "I won't die, I promise. I _am_ careful. I only take the risks I can handle. I patch up. I'm used to it. I'm not just careful, I'm also bloody good. I've got enough experience to know where the dangers are. I avoid them. I'm sorry I've been so casual. It's the Dragon Keeper thing, you're supposed to act cool and make light of everything. I promise to stay alive. Especially now I've got so much to live for." He kissed Draco's cheek. Draco wiped his face and started painting the paste onto the bandage strips.

The next time Charlie was injured, he limped home warily. But Draco cheerfully reduced the swelling in his knee and asked him whether the rest of his team were as accident-prone as he was.

"Most of them are worse," Charlie answered defensively and Draco grinned hugely.

"But there's no Potion Maker in the village is there? Where do you get your cures from?" Draco interrogated.

"Mostly owl order, some home-made. What are you thinking?"

"There's nothing in your lease to stop someone operating a business out of the cottage, is there?" Draco checked, full of enthusiasm.

"Won't you need to finish your N.E.W.Ts first?" Charlie asked doubtfully.

"Oh, I've done all the studying and thanks to Professor Snape I can look up anything I don't know. And how would anyone round here find out that I don't have any actual qualifications?" Draco asked.

"I love it when you're all devious and Slytherin," Charlie growled. He grabbed Draco's left hand and pulled. Draco ended up on his lap and Charlie put Draco's forearm to his mouth. Draco wasn't even aware of it, but when his skin flushed at the height of his arousal, a faint, white scar became visible there: a skull and a snake. Charlie planned to see it again very soon.

* * *

_8, Vipertooth Passage,_

_Vladisoas._

_14__th__ November 1998_

_Dear Mrs Weasley,_

_You will probably be surprised to hear from me. I completely understand why you have less than fond feelings towards me given the r__ô__le I have played in separating you from your son, as well as past enmities between our two families. I fully expect to receive no reply to this letter and shall not blame you at all if this is the case._

_As you know, it is Charlie's birthday next month and I would like to bake him a birthday cake. I write to ask what his favourite cake is and whether you could send me a recipe for it. We can get most ingredients here but the only recipes I can find are in Romanian and I am still learning the basics of the language._

_I have little domestic experience, having been raised with House Elves. I have been working from a cook book which I found here and which Charlie says you gave him when he left home. I am able to follow most of the recipes - it's quite like making potions - but my techniques could do with some improvement. I would be grateful for advice from someone as skilled as you._

_If I do not hear from you then I will know that you are still too angry. I never meant to take your son away from you and I am sorry that things have turned out the way that they have,_

_Yours in hope,_

_Draco L Malfoy. _


	7. Chapter 7

Harry Potter and all characters, settings and situations in this story is © J. K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, Scholastic, Bloomsbury, and all others involved.

* * *

The Magical World is One Family

A rare moment of quiet at The Burrow: Ginny, her mother, coffee and cake.

"So how's school been?" Molly asked, spooning sugar into her coffee.

"It's a bit weird, having normal lessons after everything that happened last year. It's nice being in the same year as Harry, Ron and Hermione, though. I'm glad they came back." Ginny slid her fork through her slice of cake. "It's like there's a whole load of new ghosts there but you can't see them." She put the fork in her mouth. "We don't get food like this at school. I love your sour cherry and almond loaf."

"Charlie's favourite. It's his birthday today."

"Oh, Merlin, so it is. Are you OK Mum?" Ginny asked, peering into her mother's face, looking for signs of dried tears.

Molly spoke quietly as she cut herself a second slice, "No Percy last Christmas. I thought we might all be together this year."

There was a pause, Ginny sucking meditatively on her fork. Then she stabbed a cherry and burst out, "There must be some way we could sneak him in without Mr Malfoy finding out."

"There probably is," her mother agreed, "but would he be welcome?"

"Oh, Dad'll come round. I want another slice, but I've got to be careful if I'm going to keep my position as Chaser." Ginny eyed the crumbly, sugar-topped temptation.

"It's not just your father, though, is it Ginny?" Molly asked pointedly.

"You can't mean me! I miss Charlie like mad, like everyone else does. I don't blame him for anything!" Ginny exclaimed indignantly.

Mrs Weasley continued, calmly, "But he'd hardly come on his own, would he?"

"Why not? He couldn't expect us to give Malfoy houseroom after …"

Molly interrupted her daughter to ask, "Would you leave Harry on his own at Christmas?"

Ginny watched the big knife slicing through port-soaked cherries, avoiding her mother's eyes, as she cut herself another slice. Eventually she managed to mutter, "It's not the same thing."

Molly pulled parchment out of the pocket in her apron. She laid the single sheet on the table, saying simply, "I got this."

Ginny read. "Cheeky so-and-so! How dare he write to you?" She read on. "A recipe? Oh, for Pete's sake! You didn't?"

"Years ago I collected up some of the recipes I use a lot into a notebook. But then none of you ever showed any interest and Fleur would rather starve …"

"You sent it to him? But that's like … You can't pretend he's like Fleur, she's your daughter-in-law … Mum!" Ginny felt betrayed.

"I got a lovely thank you letter and he sent me his first attempt at the loaf cake. To check he'd got it right." Molly sighed, "It's nice to know he's looking after my Charlie."

"Looking after him? Perverting him and …" Ginny suddenly stopped speaking and dropped her fork, her face forming an expression of frozen horror. "This is it, isn't it?" she asked, staring down at the crumbs on her plate as though she'd just been tricked into eating human flesh. "Mum, did Malfoy bake this cake?"

"Yes, it's good, isn't it?" Molly could not entirely suppress her smirk.

"No, it's sick! His hands have been on the ingredients and now they're inside me! It's like having the ferret's hands inside me!" Ginny wailed.

"Don't be so dramatic, dear!" her mother reprimanded.

"And Merlin knows where his hands have been!"

Molly answered defiantly, "Well I hope they've been on your poor brother, I expect he could use some cuddles!"

"It's not as good as when you make it, anyway." Ginny muttered.

"You won't manage a third slice then?" Her mother asked, archly.

* * *

A lazy February Sunday morning in Transylvania: Charlie, Draco and a bed. For breakfast they were having each other. Their love-making was lazy and languid because they had nothing else they had to do all day and they already knew each other's bodies so well.

Draco slowly kissed his way across Charlie's shoulders, playing join-the-dots in freckles. He loved how long it took him, how broad a back it was. He liked the scars less, but now he understood that they were part of who his loved one had decided to become. He traced his tongue down the groove of an old clawing wound almost fondly.

Charlie rolled over to face him, sweeping the silver fringe to one side. He liked Draco's hair long. And his skin was perfect now - clear, pale, glowing. Charlie ran both his hands down Draco's chest, through soft hairs, feeling only a hint of the shape of the bones underneath. He leant his mouth down to nip at the perfect whiteness, to mark it as his own.

And then they kissed for a long time, lazily to start with until the momentum built and they were tussling for position, each trying to hold the other down. Afterwards they lay quietly, holding hands, hearing the rain beat on the little bay of the bedroom window.

"When did you first know you were gay?" Charlie asked. He'd been thinking of his own troubled primary school years, his epiphany the summer he was eleven and the plan he had taken to Hogwarts.

Draco answered, "The first time I saw you."

Charlie grinned complacently. Then he suddenly sat upright and stared in panic at the teenage boy in his bed.

"But that means your father's right. And Percy's right! In Diagon Alley, you were so lost and lonely, so vulnerable. And I was the first person to be nice to you in days. If you hadn't fancied men before that then it was friendship you needed and I took your innocence, which makes me a molester, a predator …" Charlie trailed off having recognised Draco's emotionless expression.

"Have we finished being melodramatic?" Draco drawled superciliously.

Charlie smiled sheepishly. "That wasn't the first time, was it? I do remember. The Triwizard Tournament."

"I wasn't spying for anyone except myself. And it wasn't the dragons I was watching." Then, with a wry smile, Draco added, "With hindsight, that may have been why I was quite so beastly to Ron. For reminding me of you."

"You fancied my brother?"

"Ron? Not much. George is pretty fit, though."

"And that's OK is it?" Charlie asked.

With narrowed eyes Draco hissed, "The difference is that I fancy your brother because he looks like you, whereas you only fancy me because I look like my father."

The pause was a few seconds too long before Charlie denied it. Draco left the room.

Charlie found him in the kitchen, fully dressed and chopping roots meticulously on a glass board. His mood was unreadable; he didn't look up.

"We need to get this sorted out once and for all," Charlie said as calmly as he could. "When I was a teenager your Dad was school governor and he came in to give out some prize or something. I was all hormones and libido. And yes, he's stunning looking. The same way you are. But it's you I love. I'm living with you, sleeping with you. He's trying to kill me. I don't even like him. It's about time you stopped being jealous of him. That's just how it is."

Draco swept everything in front of him onto the floor. The glass shattered as he screamed, "No! This is how it is: You're the only man I've ever wanted, the only one I've ever had. But for you, I'm just the end of the line, the current favourite, the one who was left after you'd tried everyone else …"

"Has Percy been talking to you?" Charlie demanded angrily.

"Oh no, nobody ever tells me anything. I just get vague warnings and advice to be careful. I don't know anything about anywhere else, though I bet it's just as bad. I only know about this village: the resentment of the baker who won't serve me and the dragon-hide tanner who spits at me; the pity from the chocolatier who slips me chocolate fish, saying, 'Only for you, you not give to him'; superior smirks from your colleague who thinks he knows things I don't …"

"Which one?" Charlie asked.

"One you've screwed! How much does that narrow it down?" There was silence. They glared at each other, but Charlie didn't answer. Finally, in a cracked voice, Draco answered his own question, "I make it five on your team alone, and there are only a dozen of you. You'd been with everyone else before it was my turn. You even prefer a man who issues regular death threats against you, who's driven us into exile …"

"We're not in exile. I live here," Charlie pointed out, but softly. "Finished? I don't prefer him, I don't prefer anyone except you. It's you I'm with now."

Draco kicked over a wooden stool and tried to scream again, but his abused vocal chords only managed a squeak: "Only because you pity me, only because I've got nowhere else to go!"

Charlie reached out to touch the trembling, dishevelled figure, but he was flung off. Draco picked up his wand and aimed it at him, whispering, "I should hex your skin off you bastard!" Then all the fight abruptly left him and he sank to the floor. He curled his long fingers round his blond head and muttered in a lifeless voice, "But it's true, I haven't got anywhere else to go."

Charlie nearly retorted that if that was the only reason he stayed the he needn't bother. But he bit that back, deciding not to prolong the row that he could see was nearly over. He dropped down to the floor, too, and wrapped his arms around his love. Draco snuggled into Charlie's chest, hiding his face.

"Can I answer now?" Charlie asked quietly. He decided to read a slight movement as a nod and kissed the top of Draco's head.

"It's true," Charlie began, "I've had sex with a lot of men. In the past. But how long have we been together now?"

Draco muttered, "Five months, two weeks and three days."

"My previous record was nineteen days. Mostly one-night-stands, a few lasted a week. I just took that first, passionate thrill, took a lot of virginities. And then dumped them without a backward glance. When I saw you outside George's shop last summer you were so lonely, lost, lacking self-esteem. Easy pickings. Just my type. 'Vulnerable' is Percy's word. He says I have an instinct for locating vulnerability, for manipulating the lost and pretty. With the others I always took what I wanted and walked away."

Draco looked up into Charlie's face. He looked sick.

"I've been a bad, bad man, angel," Charlie stated, looking into Draco's damp, grey eyes. "And then you happened. It's different. You're special. I couldn't cope if you left me. And I'm certainly not going to leave you. I didn't think I was capable of feeling this. If you were a girl I think I'd ask you to marry me. If it had been anyone else with me in the Leaky Cauldron when your Dad broke down the door, I'd have escaped here alone."

"So you're a creep?" Draco asked, but he didn't expect Charlie to answer that, so he just added, "But you're my creep."

"Am I really the only one you've ever had sex with?" Charlie asked.

The pause was just a few seconds too long before Draco confirmed it.


	8. Chapter 8

Harry Potter and all characters, settings and situations in this story is © J. K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, Scholastic, Bloomsbury, and all others involved.

* * *

Harry Potter Has Saved Us All

"That was one of the best Easters," Ginny smiled, pulling Harry onto the sofa with her. "Just like when we were kids!"

Ron closed his eyes and rested his head back in the armchair which was usually his father's. "Better," he amended. "Nobody transfigured my chocolate bunny into a dead vole."

The crack of an Apparition made him open his eyes again. Everyone was glaring at him except for Harry, who looked confused, and George, who had gone. Ron covered his face with both hands.

"He just said things were better without Fred," Ginny explained to Harry.

They were in The Burrow's sitting room: Ron, Ginny, Harry, Bill and Percy. Everyone else had gone to bed or gone home.

"Let's raid Dad's drinks," Bill suggested, "where's he hiding them now?"

"He probably hasn't moved them since the summer," Ginny answered. "He though it was only Charlie, remember?"

Bill pulled two bottles out of matching twee vases someone had given him and Fleur as wedding presents and they had 'forgotten' to take to Shell Cottage.

"Old Ogden's and something called Janx Spirit," he announced.

"He'll notice and then he'll know," observed Ginny wistfully, "I wish Charlie was here to take the blame."

"I wish Charlie was here full stop," Ron grumbled. "And Fred, of course. And George for that matter," he added.

Ginny said, "Poor Charlie. Bloody Malfoy."

She was shocked by Bill's bitter laugh from the other side of the room. He was pouring out a glass of each drink for each of them. He looked up when he'd finished to find everyone except Percy looking quizzically at him. Percy was pointedly examining the fire as though trying to stay out of the coming conversation.

"Well, it's the kid I feel sorry for. You know what Charlie's like. Oh, no, you don't, do you? You lot weren't at school with him," Bill sat back, flicking his wand casually to distribute the drinks.

To the younger Weasleys, Charlie had been a bit of a hero: Quidditch Captain, cheeky rebel, brave dragon fighter … much more interesting than head boy, then a job in a bank or the civil service. Those were the things that impressed their parents.

"We were at school with Malfoy, though," Ron reminded Bill, "and he's not someone it's possible to feel sorry for." He grabbed his drinks out of the air.

Percy thought about saying something, but let it go. He was surprised when Harry came out with almost the very words he had been thinking of using: "He had a tough time in the war. And before that. With Voldemort."

"It's no excuse!" Ginny added, quickly.

"No, I'm not saying that," Harry answered. The exchange sounded like one they'd had many times before.

"He must have bewitched Charlie or something, I mean Charlie's straight …" Ron muttered. Again the sentence sounded stale.

"Hardly," Bill spluttered into his glass, tipsy already, and on a rare evening away from wife and baby. "I bet he was a mess after the last battle, was he, this Malfoy boy? Hard time with The Dark Lord and then defeat? Not many friends? Perfect bloody victim for Charlie! And he's only your age, isn't he?"

"Believe me, Malfoy's nobody's victim! You want to save your pity for our brother!" Ron exploded.

Bill gestured almost threateningly with a portion of chocolate egg, "You're old enough to hear this now. Percy and I have been covering for Charlie for years, at least a decade. This is classic Charlie. Though this one has been going on a bit. But at some point he'll dump that poor lovesick child and he'll be more miserable than he was to start with. That's what happens. All through school. And since."

"You reckon they'll split up soon, then?" Ron asked hopefully.

"Covering what? How?" Ginny asked.

"It was lucky for Charlie that I was Head Boy when I was," Bill answered. He looked like he was about to launch into a full revelation, but Percy intervened.

"Don't tell George!" he ordered Ginny, then turned to each of the others in turn. "He's not up to it. He and Fred idolised Charlie and we always managed to keep them in the dark, no point changing that now." He turned warningly to Bill.

Rubbing tiredly at the long scars down his cheeks, Bill replied, "You're the only one who was at school with both Charlie and Draco. You tell us who should we be feeling sorry for."

Percy thought a moment, "Neither of them," he answered. "I've been out to see them a few times and they seem surprisingly well matched. It doesn't look like anyone's bewitching or manipulating anyone else. There's nothing to stop any of you checking it out for yourselves."

* * *

_Malfoy Manor, 5__th__ June 1999_

_Happy Birthday, Darling Draco!_

_I am sending this parcel with Gellert, the Eagle Owl you had at school. I hope he can find you as I still don't have your address. We don't need him back, I thought you could probably do with the company._

_The cufflinks belonged to my father. I sometimes wonder how he would have felt about his grandson now. We have lots of other gifts for you here but you will have to come and collect them yourself. _

_I hope you have a lovely day. I do wish you would come home, your father and I miss you so much. We haven't seen you for nearly a year now. If you run away from that horrid man now, I'm sure your father will forgive you and we can be a happy family again. I lied to the Dark Lord to keep you safe, I risked my life for you. Remember?_

_You'll be pleased to know that the Pygmy Puff is thriving . There's a Sacher Torte here with nineteen candles on it. Don't make me eat it all on my own,_

_Your loving mother,_

_Narcissa_

* * *

Charlie came in from work injured again. This time it was a burnt shoulder. Draco rushed from the half-peeled pumpkin to dab on the paste.

"I can't keep doing this," Charlie groaned. "It's a young man's game." He lay back on Draco's lap, happy to be nursed.

"You're only twenty-six," Draco laughed, laying wet bandages over the paste, happy to be nursing.

"I don't know what I'm going to do when I am too old for dragon work," Charlie pondered, self-pityingly.

"By then my parents will be dead and we can move into Malfoy Manor," Draco said, "and you can laze about being looked after by House Elves."

"That's a long way off, Drake. What makes you think you'll still want to be saddled with me?" Charlie asked.

Draco pushed Charlie off him and stood up, snorting, "I know I'll want to be with you. You're the one who's not sure. And don't call me Drake. You reduce me from a dragon to a duck." He stomped back to making the pumpkin pie.

"Don't be like that, baby!" Charlie shouted after him, settling back on the sofa. "You know I love you. I'd marry you if I could!"

* * *

Draco wiped his hands on his apron and went through to the hatch to see which customer had rung his bell. But it wasn't a customer, it was Percy, looking drained and tense. Draco told Monica, his new assistant, to mind the shop and he and Percy trudged through the snow across the yard between the kiosk and the cottage.

He offered Percy a _Pepper Up _potion, which he declined, and a seat, which he sank into.

"You'd better sit down too, Draco," he sighed.

"Can't I get you a cup of tea? There's cherry vodka somewhere left over from our New Years party." Draco took off his apron.

"I don't know if I should be telling you this or not," Percy said, looking so serious that Draco did sit down.

Percy looked into Draco's face and then down at his own hands before saying, "I've just taken another Perpetrator Deposition."

Draco tried to swallow, but his throat was suddenly too dry.

"I just thought you should know," Percy said solemnly.

"Who?" Draco managed to croak.

Percy shook his head, saying, "Sorry, confidential."

"And immune," Draco said bitterly, finding his voice again. "I think I'll have some of that cherry vodka. You sure you won't join me?"

"Just a small one then. I've got to back to work."

But Draco's hands were shaking too much to pour, so Percy had to take over.

"I shouldn't have told you, should I?" Percy asked.

"Yes. I'm grateful. I'll be OK," Draco gulped between mouthfuls of the drink.

"If I get any more?" Percy checked.

"Tell me. Thank you." Draco poured them another drink each. "This vodka is vile. I don't know who brought us this."

"I don't suppose … no." Percy stopped himself.

"Go on," Draco encouraged him, chucking back his second drink and pulling a face.

"Have you got any idea whether there _could_ be more, how many …?" he trailed off as Draco shook his head.

"I was blind-folded."

"I know, I'm sorry," Percy answered hastily, then emptied his glass. "This does taste foul."

"I have been thinking about giving you a deposition. But I can't do it. I'm too much of a coward," Draco said, putting his glass in the sink.

Percy stared at the bottle, considering it while he said, "That's not cowardice, that's normal. I'd like to run away from the whole thing myself. But I've staked my career on it now." He filled his glass again. "Which doesn't mean I'm not still hopeful that you'll change your mind. You're an important witness." He tried to knock back the disgusting pink liquid without tasting it. And failed. "Will you be all right? I have to go back to work now."

Draco assessed Percy. He was still pale and shaking slightly, but he was now also swaying a little. "If you try to Apparate in this condition you'll splinch yourself," he said reasonably. "And for obvious reasons, we've chosen not to connect to the Floo network or anything else which might give away our location. For the same reasons, I'm afraid I can't offer you a side-along into London which will be full of Father's spies. So why don't you stay to supper? Charlie would love to see you."

"I didn't tell The Ministry I was leaving …" Percy began to protest.

"It's shepherd's pie."

"We can't tell Charlie why I'm here," objected Percy.

"We'll pretend you missed him and wanted to see him," Draco teased.

"I do miss him, I do like seeing him. And you. But I have to write this up …"

"Sponge pudding and custard."

"You've twisted my arm!" Percy laughed.

* * *

_Mr and Mrs Arthur Weasley are delighted to invite_

_CHARLES WEASLEY AND GUEST_

_To the Marriage of their daughter, Miss Ginevra Weasley to Mr Harry Potter_

_On 13__th__ April 2000 at 11.00 am_

_In the garden of The Burrow, and to the reception afterwards in the same place._

_R.S.V.P_


	9. Chapter 9

Harry Potter and all characters, settings and situations in this story is © J. K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, Scholastic, Bloomsbury, and all others involved.

* * *

We Are All Friends Now

"We're not going."

"You are joking!"

"I am not. It's not good enough."

"It's acceptance, it's inclusion."

"No it isn't! 'Mr Charles Weasley _and guest._ I mean, who the hell do they think I'll bring? No, they can bloody well put your name on the invitation or we don't go."

Charlie threw the embossed card onto the kitchen table with an air of finality. "Anyway, they know we can't enter Britain, it's not safe. There's an outstanding death threat hanging over me."

"You don't think the security might be quite tight at the wedding of the Blessed Potter?" asked Draco, as he picked the invitation up again, adding, "Look. There: 'Mr and Mrs Arthur Weasley'. Your father's put his name to this. It's a peace offering."

"He won't have drawn up the guest list, will he? What if it's Harry's idea to invite us?" Charlie asked slyly.

Draco's eyes flared with hate, just as Charlie had known they would. With the predictable, cold malice in his voice, Draco answered, "But that would involve the Chosen One sullying his mind with some thinking and he has people to do that for him!"

Charlie sighed. He wished he hadn't mentioned Harry, but they could hardly ignore the fact that it was him who was getting married. "Why do you hate him so much?" he asked, moving into the sitting room to get his boots so Draco couldn't see his face.

Draco followed him, picking up the kiosk keys from the hook by the door, asking, "Do I have to start loving him now that he's going to be related to you?"

Charlie dropped his boots, "Hell no!" he cried out, with more vehemence than he had intended, making Draco turn round. "I just wish you didn't hate him so …" Charlie searched for a word that would explain his unease, "… passionately."

"What?" Draco looked lost.

"Just his name. It has a physical effect on you. You're so emotional about him. I know you say you hate him, but …" Charlie dropped his head. He'd been feeling this for so long, why did he have to bring it up now when they were both heading for work? He'd better finish the sentence anyway, "it looks like something else."

"Potter?" Draco laughed incredulously. "You're not jealous of Potter? That's ridiculous. I don't even like him. There is nothing about him that I find remotely pleasant."

"Ah! So why do you want to go to his wedding, then?" Charlie retorted. He bent down to fasten his boots.

Draco watched him, watched his strong fingers working the laces, watched the ginger fringe falling across the defined eyebrows into the blue eyes, saw the tightness round the mouth that meant his Charlie was trying to hide strong emotions. And Draco smiled broadly.

"You actually are jealous, aren't you?" Draco asked happily.

About to deny it, Charlie looked up and saw his lover's expression. Instead he said, "Of course I am. I don't want you having strong feelings for anyone except me." To his own ears he sounded petulant, but Draco looked delighted. He crossed the room and hugged Charlie.

"It's only 'cos everything always goes right for him and everybody thinks he's wonderful and I want it to be getting all the adulation. I want his life, not his body," he reassured.

"His parents are dead," Charlie argued.

"Sounds good to me!" Draco answered darkly.

"You'd have to marry Ginny," Charlie proffered, with a cheeky grin.

"Oh, all right, then. He can have the fame, I'll settle for having you instead." Draco kissed Charlie's cheek before changing tack, "We'll need really good dress robes, we have to outshine everyone else. Oh, and the best present."

"Well, we can't afford it so we can't go," Charlie said, shrugging in mock disappointment.

"Speak for yourself. The Potion Kiosk is highly profitable. I'm definitely putting you in green."

"We're both late for work now. And I haven't agreed yet," Charlie reminded him.

* * *

To avoid the chaos - and possible splinchings - caused by having hundreds of people Apparating directly to The Burrow, a Port Key system had been set up. Dressed to kill, Draco and Charlie Apparated to their designated location at their designated time. Draco groaned when he recognised the two ushers appointed to organise this Port Key. Which was nothing compared to the dismay of the two young men when they saw him.

"What are you doing here?" one of them spluttered.

"_I _am virtually family, Longbottom," Draco drawled, "unlike you. How sad and yet predictable that she preferred the Boy Who Lived to you."

"Actually, I'm engaged! To Hannah Abbott!" Neville responded, defensively.

"Doesn't ring a bell. A fellow nonentity, no doubt? I do hope you've managed to scrape into some boring menial job to enable you to eventually support this unmemorable woman of yours," Draco sneered coolly.

"I start teaching Herbology in September, actually," Neville replied, attempting the same level of reserve.

"At Hogwarts?" Draco curled his lip. "Standards really have slipped. I'm so glad I completed my education elsewhere," he lied smoothly. This was all coming very easily. He was aware of Charlie's silence behind him.

The other young man had used the exchange to regain his composure and now stepped forward to attack with, "I hear you're taking it up the arse these days, Malfoy."

Quite unruffled, Draco responded, "Whereas you, Finnegan, aren't getting any at all."

"Fuck off! What do you know?" snapped Seamus.

"Still waiting for your favourite Muggle-born to notice you, are you? I do hope we'll see him today, I'm sure Mr Thomas will look dashing in dress robes."

His composure utterly lost now, Seamus practically shouted, "I'm not the fucking bum boy!"

"Through lack of opportunity rather than lack of motivation," Draco countered, just as another group of guests arrived. Seamus and Neville scampered off to greet them, leaving Draco with the last word. Shame-faced, he turned to face Charlie, who stood silently with his arms crossed and a raised eyebrow.

"I'm sorry you saw that," Draco said, "We were at school together. I reverted."

Charlie answered, "If that's what you were like at school then I can see why no-one likes you. You're a complete bitch!"

"I promise to be nice to your family," Draco said repentantly.

"That includes Harry."

Draco ground his teeth. "Does it? OK."

Then Charlie released the grin he'd been holding.

Draco chuckled, asking, "Did it turn you on?"

"Just a bit," Charlie admitted.

* * *

The garden had been magically extended and decorated in white and gold. There were white marquees and gold parasols over wrought-iron tables painted white and gold; there was a gold lion-shaped fountain and later there would be colour-coordinated fireworks. It was all decorated with huge hearts circling entwining 'H's and 'G's. And everywhere there were flowers: lilies, yellow roses and giant daisies. Hermione thought that it was all a bit too much and so was the puffy meringue of a dress Ginny was squeezing into.

Hermione sat at the window of Ginny's bedroom and let Fleur get on with the hair and make-up. It was more her thing. When she'd asked Ginny why Fleur was her matron-of-honour, Ginny had answered, "She's seven months pregnant: all that bad skin and water retention. It's the only chance I'll ever have to look prettier than her."

Pinned to the dressing table by gallic attention to detail, Ginny kept asking Hermione questions like "What's Harry wearing?", "How does it all look?" (Hermione lied politely), "How many photographers?" and, with increasing regularity and urgency, "Where's Luna?" Luna was the other bridesmaid. They'd spent hours worrying about whether she'd customised her dress and how they could remove her jewellery. Now Ginny was just worried that she might be so late she'd miss it altogether.

Hermione stood up suddenly and leaned out of the window for a better view, "They've arrived!" she squealed.

"The Lovegoods?" Ginny asked.

"No. Charlie. With Malfoy."

"What do they look like?" Ginny wanted to know.

"Really tasteful outfits. Coordinated but not the same. Creams and greens. Both got shoulder-length hair now …"

"That's not what I meant! Do they look happy? Uncomfortable? In love? Confunded?" Ginny demanded desperately. Fleur held her head still and inserted another hair pin.

"They're on the other side of the garden! How should I … ? Uh oh, Bill's approaching them."

"'E will be'ave impeccably," Fleur said firmly.

"I can't see your Dad, Ginny. How do you think he's going to react? Oh God, Ron's spotted them. Bill's shaking Malfoy's hand and now he's embracing Charlie. Hagrid's waylaid Ron. Oh, Luna's here! She's got her feet in the fountain!"

* * *

"It's lovely to meet you, Bill. Would you excuse me, I've just seen someone I need to speak to?" said Draco, leaving the two Weasley brothers together and hurrying across the lawn. And then he stopped, standing behind a head as blonde as his own, preparing himself.

"Hello Luna," he said.

She turned her head and, to his relieved surprise, she smiled.

"Hello Draco," she replied, swinging her bare feet over the lip of the fountain and standing in front of him, "I'm so glad you're here."

He smiled back and replied, "So am I. And I'm glad you're here because I've been wanting to talk to you for a long time. You look lovely, by the way, most people can't wear gold, but it suits you."

"I'm a bridesmaid. What did you want to say?" she asked in her usual, direct manner.

Draco became aware that there were a lot of people around, some of them watching, possibly listening. Fair enough. Perhaps this needed to be public.

He started bravely enough, "I have felt awful about the time you …" he faltered, losing the words, losing courage, " when you were … at my parents' place. In the cellar. I wanted to … for there to be something I could do. I didn't do anything. I wanted to apologise."

"It wasn't your fault," she stated, "and you did do something."

"No, I just cowered and obeyed orders," he admitted.

"We were all scared. But you defied Voldemort. That was brave. Thank you for refusing to rape me."

Draco couldn't believe what she'd said: couldn't believe that she'd known, that she'd said the word, that she'd been so open in front of so many people. There was a frozen silence, in which only Luna seemed comfortable.

Eventually he just asked, "How did you know?"

As if it were the most normal thing in the world, Luna replied, "Voldemort kept telling me it was going to happen. I was too scared to sleep. He said it would be you and it would be brutal. But you never came."

"I thought he'd just get someone else …" Draco couldn't finish the sentence.

"No. Nobody else. Were you punished?" she asked with such concern that he could hardly believe it.

"I thought I would be, but …" he stopped speaking as an awful realisation, his most terrible memory, came to him. He lost the abilities to talk, focus, move. Of course. And the punishment had been both appropriate and disproportional. How very like the Dark Lord. Carrow hadn't been lying, he had had orders.

He flinched as he felt an arm go around him, but it was Charlie's and he relaxed. A lot of people were staring at him.


	10. Chapter 10

Harry Potter and all characters, settings and situations in this story is © J. K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, Scholastic, Bloomsbury, and all others involved.

Live In Harmony

Draco walked slowly towards an empty bench under a tree. He was barely aware that Charlie had come with him. Then Percy was leaning over, asking, "Is everything all right?"

And of course, Percy was the only one who knew, who could understand what it meant.

"It was on his orders, Percy. I understand. Because I wouldn't do it to Luna, he had all of them do it to me," he explained.

"What's going on?" Charlie demanded. "Why's he telling you? What does it mean? What's wrong with him?" he asked Percy. Draco was his, he knew every inch of him, they spent every night together. Why did Percy understand something about his Draco that he didn't?

Percy sat down next to Draco, on the other side from Charlie and it was Draco and Percy who looked into each other's faces. Percy asked, "Is it better to know? You wanted to know. You realise that this means you're not a victim, you're a hero?"

Draco took time to absorb Percy's words. "But I didn't know that would happen," he countered, still with that sick, lost expression on his face.

"What happened?" Charlie asked. He was fuming. He wanted to be supportive but it was driving him mad that he was outside something that they were inside together.

Draco turned to him briefly, stretched a hand out to him. Charlie held it. But then Draco turned back to Percy.

"I will do you a deposition, Percy. I think it would help. About everything, but including …" he looked at Charlie, "I can't say it. I know you deserve to know. I can't. It wasn't me who told Percy. Can't you tell him?" he asked Percy.

"I could," Percy answered, "but I think you should try."

Draco took a deep breath before saying to Charlie: "At school, the last term. Carrow. And other Death Eaters. Blindfolded me and ... Lots of them …" He couldn't say it.

Charlie was terrified of the answer, but he had to ask, "Not … Didn't rape you?"

"Did," was all Draco could manage.

Charlie wrapped his arms tight round his lover's trembling form. He wanted to protect him, but it was too late. He wanted to kill Carrow and all the faceless, masked Death Eaters who had done this thing to the person he loved most. He wanted to change the past, to be there and to make it not happen. But all he could do instead was just hold Draco.

Draco was talking again, muttering into Charlie's chest, "They patched me up after. No-one knew. They said they would do it again. I had to get His favour back. I wanted to give him Potter to save myself."

"You were scared. That's understandable," Percy said quickly.

"Potter wouldn't have …" Draco protested weakly.

"Plenty of people did worse things with less reason," Percy argued.

Draco curled into Charlie and clung to him, the way he had done when they had first found each other. Then it had excited Charlie, but now he wanted his confident, happy Draco back.

Percy stood up, began to back off, just as Ron started striding towards them. Seeing his expression, Percy started saying, "Not now" but Ron wasn't listening.

"I want a word with you, Malfoy," Ron growled.

Draco surreptitiously wiped his face on the sleeve of his smart robes and then stood up and attempted a sneer.

"I want my brother back you twisted piece of shit!" Ron spat out.

Old habits kicked in and Draco reached for his wand, snarling, "Fuck off Weasel!" But he was too slow, Ron had punched him in the face.

Charlie flew at his younger brother, pushing Draco and Percy aside; he rammed into Ron, knocking him to the ground where he slammed his fist into him. After a moment where he was immobilised by shock, Ron fought back, kicking out and head-butting as well as thumping.

Suddenly an explosive force separated them and Harry Potter stood over them, glowering, his wand pointed at a space between them. Very softly he said, "If you two spoil Ginny's big day then I will personally hex your balls off. Sort it out elsewhere!"

Shooting Harry a look of resentment, Charlie grabbed hold of Ron's collar and stood up, forcing Ron to his feet. He said, "We'll talk things through at our place, then," and they both disappeared.

Harry and Draco were left staring at each other.

"Careful!" Percy warned.

"I invited him to my wedding. I'm not going to attack him," Harry said, steadily but fiercely.

Draco managed to force out, "Congratulations."

"There's blood and dirt all over your face," Harry reprimanded in reply.

"Ron hit me," Draco stated.

"Clean up before a journalist finds you," Harry snapped.

Draco answered, "I haven't got a mirror."

"Do you trust me to put a wand to your face?" Harry asked.

"Percy?" Draco requested.

"Merlin's pants, Malfoy, what do you think I'm going to do to you?" Harry sighed with exasperation, waving his wand and removing blood, bruises and tear tracks.

"How long until the ceremony, Harry?" Percy asked, to fill the potentially awkward silence.

"Don't know," Harry admitted, "Ginny and Molly have organised everything."

"Thanks for inviting us," Draco muttered.

"No problem," Harry said, avoiding eye contact, adding, "thanks for the present. It's pretty cool. Did you make them all yourself? Must have taken ages."

It had, but Draco said, "Not really, had most of them in stock. It's what I do."

"What is?" Percy asked.

"Potions," Draco replied.

"I know that," Percy said.

Harry explained: "It's a case with a couple of dozen potions in little bottles. Useful ones, household and medical. You know?"

"A sort of starter kit for a new couple," Draco added.

Percy smiled. He thought he'd better not let Draco know how sweet he thought that was.

They were interrupted by a flash of light and then shouting on the other side of the house. Harry ran round to see what was happening. So did a lot of other people. Over the panic rose one voice, a voice Draco recognised. His father's. He couldn't make out any words but the tone was clear.

"I'll sort this out," Percy said quickly, "and let you know when it's safe to return."

Draco Apparated to the cottage in Romania without replying. He was lucky not to land on the two men on the floor.

"This must be a Weasley definition of 'talking things through'," he said dryly, watching Charlie and Ron's exhausted attempts to pummel each other.

"Stop it!" he shouted at them and Charlie looked up. With a look of disgust he pushed Ron away from him. Before Ron could swing his next punch, Draco said to Charlie, "My Father just turned up to kill you."

Ron froze. Charlie swore.

"But Percy's going to sort it out and then come and get us," Draco stated with complete confidence.

"Bloody hell! If we're relying on Percy you've had it!" Ron told Charlie. "I'd better get back there."

"Looking like that? Potter's very particular about everyone's appearance today," Draco said, trying to keep the contempt from his voice and failing.

"Oh, yeah. They've got some magazine paying for most of it. And newspapers there from all over the world," Ron grumbled.

Draco _Accioed_ over his Potions case and handed Charlie dittany for himself, while he got to work on Ron. Ron flinched before the liquid made contact.

"Can't bear to have me touch you?" Draco asked resentfully. Charlie looked over proprietorially.

"It's not that actually. But it always stings when Mum does it," Ron admitted.

"Yeah, I do that sometimes when it's his own fault he's got hurt," Draco answered, looking over with a grin at Charlie. "But you have to add in the sting and I haven't this time."

He dabbed gently at Ron's face and hands, then charmed his face clean, his hair tidy and, finally, repaired the rips in his robes.

"All done!" Draco announced, standing back to admire his work. "Unless …" he flicked the wand at the robes again and buttons started to re-arrange themselves, stitching moved and some twee little stars disappeared altogether. While the robes improved themselves, Draco asked, with a nasty smile "Did you choose it yourself?"

"Yeah!" Ron answered defensively. Actually 'choose' was overstating the matter. He'd grabbed the first thing he could see without lace on.

Draco swished his wand, muttering something, and the colour of the clothes deepened to midnight blue. "You should take Miss Granger with you next time," he suggested.

Ron stood up and replied, "Yeah. Girls are much better at that sort of thing," then he looked straight at Draco with a coldness in his gaze and added, "no offence."

Draco was deciding whether to take any when Charlie intervened. Putting his arm round Draco's shoulders and giving Ron a warning look he said, "Weren't you on your way to save my life or something?"

"I'm sure Percy's sorted everything out by now!" Ron answered back sarcastically and Apparated away.

Once they were alone together, Charlie wrapped his other arm around Draco and Draco slipped his arms round Charlie's waist. They held each other tight. Draco closed his eyes. Each knew the other was thinking about the gang rape, but neither wanted to start a conversation about it.

Eventually Charlie lifted Draco up and carried him over to the sofa. When they were sitting comfortably close, he asked softly, "How are you feeling?"

"Better, actually," Draco answered. "In some ways better than I have in a long time. I've wanted to tell you for so long. But it's hard."

"I feel so angry and so helpless. I want to protect you and I've failed," Charlie said, pulling Draco's head onto his shoulder.

"Silly, you didn't know me then," Draco mumbled into Charlie's warmth. "We've been together over nineteen months and nothing bad has happened to me in all that time. You're doing pretty well."

Charlie twisted his head so he could see Draco's face better. He looked concerned and he was holding Draco as though he were something fragile. It was the last thing Draco wanted.

"I need to look after you," Charlie whispered.

"Well maybe you could do the washing up occasionally then," Draco replied bluntly. He pulled back from his lover. He wouldn't let himself be treated like a china ornament in a world without _Reparo_. It was Charlie whose life was in danger as they waited. By unspoken agreement, they were ignoring that, though.

Draco decided it was time to remind his Dragon keeper that he was no longer the scared little virgin who'd got himself picked up on Diagon Alley. He slipped down onto his knees in front of Charlie and started to push up the velvet dress robes. It was lucky that Bill, when he arrived, had the manners to Apparate to the front door and not straight into the sitting room.


	11. Chapter 11

Harry Potter and all characters, settings and situations in this story is © J. K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, Scholastic, Bloomsbury, and all others involved.

* * *

Deal Fairly With Muggles

Percy found Lucius Malfoy after Arthur did. The slight red-head was confronting the imposing blond.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" he asked.

"I have been looking for someone for some time. I heard he might be here," Mr Malfoy answered.

A flash-bulb lit the two men's faces.

"You haven't been invited. Please leave," demanded Mr Weasley.

"Obviously this is not a place I would choose to be in other circumstances," Malfoy sneered.

A crowd of guests and journalists had gathered to watch. Wands were surreptitiously drawn, anticipating escalation.

"You can buy the magazine tomorrow, the same as the rest of the hoi poloi," George called out. "Best run along now."

Lucius bristled and turned on the younger man. "I will leave when I have done what I came here to do," he spat at him.

"Killed our brother?" Percy asked, pushing through the crowd.

More photographs were taken as Malfoy spun round to face him, thundering, "He has violated my son! He has abducted him for his foul purposes!"

George stormed through to the centre of the action, to stand between the two fathers. He pointed his wand into Lucius' face, yelling, "Your son is an evil, manipulating, disgusting little monster who's seduced a good man away from his family …"

"That's enough!" Percy shouted authoritatively, "They're just in love with each other!"

There was an uncomfortable shifting amongst the onlookers. The _Quick Quotes Quills_ scratched across the reporters' notebooks.

A group of wizards were ranged behind Arthur, their wands displayed now, offering silent support: Bill, Dean Thomas, Amos Diggory, Lee Jordan, Neville and Professor Flitwick among them. Percy stood beside his father, and asked Mr Malfoy: "Have you come here in order to find and kill Charles Weasley?"

"What if I have?" Lucius hissed.

"Just answer the question, Mr Malfoy," Percy insisted.

"I have come to get my son back by whatever means necessary," was the answer.

"Including murder?" Percy insisted, "Did you come here with the intention of committing a murder?"

"Yes! I will cleanse the world of the deviant filth that is your brother! And you can't stop me, you pompous little runt!" Lucius ranted.

"He doesn't need to," came a rich, commanding voice from behind Malfoy, "because I will."

Lucius twisted round and saw that the speaker was the Minister himself, Kingsley Shacklebolt, flanked by Rubeus Hagrid, Minerva McGonagall and Harry Potter.

"_Expelliarmus_!" Harry used his signature move to disarm Mr Malfoy.

Shacklebolt continued, "Lucius Malfoy, you are under arrest for attempted murder."

The wedding guests closed in.

* * *

"What happened here?" Bill asked. He had volunteered to collect 'Romeo and Juliet' - as Ron was sarcastically calling them - mostly out of curiosity and he was having a good look round. Luckily his question did not refer to his hosts' blissfully dishevelled appearances. "It's all tidy!" he added. "Last time I was here there was a smell," he told Draco, who was hastily brushing his hair.

"You're sure it's safe?" Draco checked, "My father's gone?"

"Not yet," Bill replied, wandering into the bedroom. Charlie hastily cleaned up a couple of damp patches on the sofa with his wand. Bill called through the wall, "He is tied up in the chicken shed waiting for the Dementors to take him to Azkaban. This is quite cosy, now. Oh," he put his head round the door to look at Draco, "did you want to talk to him before he goes?"

Draco gave a bitter laugh. Bill came back into the room, asking, "Didn't you have two manky armchairs?"

"Draco fixed them up and extended one," Charlie replied. He said to Draco, "Are sure you don't want to see your Dad? It could be a long time before you get another chance."

"I improved the design too," Draco said, smoothing his robes, then, "Why would I want a conversation with a psychopathic bigot?"

"'Cos he's family?" suggested Bill.

* * *

A snarling Lucius Malfoy thrashed about amongst the droppings. When the shed door opened, he tried to sit up, but his bindings were too tight. He lay with as much dignity as his position allowed and said, "How nice to see you after all this time, Draco. You'd better go home to your mother now."

Bill took a step back from the doorway, but when Draco turned to him in panic, he stayed.

"You're not well placed for giving orders," Draco said softly, trying to bite down the fear.

"Don't be so stupid, boy!" his father snapped. "She's worried sick you selfish little …"

"I'm not a little boy. I'm nearly twenty-one. And my home isn't with you any more," Draco forced out.

"I am well aware of that. You've broken your mother's heart. You don't even visit," Lucius criticised coldly.

"Well, no. The last thing I heard you were planning on locking me in the cellar when you got the chance," Draco replied, his anger giving him courage.

"Silly child! Not if you leave him voluntarily."

"I'm not going to leave Charlie." Draco said firmly.

Mr Malfoy turned his head away, saying "My son had self-respect. You're no son of mine, cleaving to depravity, to your abuser …"

"Abuse?" Draco exploded with fury. "Charlie protects me! You're the one who handed me over to the most evil wizard in history! You are my father! You were supposed to look after me!"

Lucius was calm as he responded, "He was going to be great. His power was enormous. You could have learnt from him. We would have been great. Together."

His son chose not to argue with him; he stood up, brushing chicken poop from his knees instead and simply said, "I probably won't see you again. A reconciliation would have been nice, your blessing even. But I can live without." He walked away.

He was closing the door when his father called after him, "You'll never be happy!"

But I already am, thought Draco, I really am. And he didn't even care enough for his father to tell him so.

With Bill, he made his way round the house. They passed the bridal group fussing by the front door. Luna gave him a big wave and he waved back. Seeing this, Hermione raised her hand shyly. He returned her wave with a bigger one. The look he got from Mr Weasley was, however, anything but welcoming.

Most of the guests were seated on the pews (white and gold, of course) laid out on the lawn. The ceremony had been delayed while Shacklebolt communicated with Azkaban, but they were ready to go ahead now.

Charlie was waiting with the ushers. As Draco reached them, tension visibly rippled through the group.

"We'd better sit down," Charlie told him.

George stepped forward, "Family at the front," he said. Then he looked at Draco and added, "You'd better go over …"

"With me," Charlie said firmly.

George glowered resentfully, but he shrugged. Charlie walked Draco down the aisle to sit just behind Harry and Ron.

* * *

"Too many ushers, not enough bridesmaids," the magazine photographer grumbled.

He placed Luna between Dean and George. She was on George's earless side and she stared openly at the gap on the side of his head.

"Do you miss your ear?" she asked.

Nobody ever mentioned his lack of an ear, most people avoided looking at that side of his face. They thought they were being kind. Fred had been the last person who'd stared so openly at his deformity, the last person who'd asked him about it.

"A bit," he answered honestly.

"Is that what makes you so sad?" she asked bluntly.

"Not really. No," he muttered, embarrassed. How long was this photo going to take? When could he get away from her?

"Your face looks like it's got used to looking sad. Are you sad about Fred?" she persisted.

George turned his head away, towards Fleur. He just wanted to go home and be on his own again.

But Luna kept talking, kept saying the things that nobody else ever said to him: "I remember you two used to laugh all the time. You must miss him."

And then he found he was turning back to her, answering her, "I do miss him; I miss him laughing; I miss not caring; I miss Fred." It was the first time he'd said that aloud. It felt good. And terrible.

"I miss my mother," Luna said, "but I'm used to it now. Not used to her being gone, just used to missing her."

George looked down, contemplatively, but looked straight back up and into Luna's face. "Have you got bare feet?" he asked.

"I took the shoes off to paddle in the fountain. I must have forgotten to put them back on." She sounded unconcerned.

Ginny's precious wedding photos! George grinned for the first time in a long time.

"Lift your skirt up a bit," he whispered, "make sure your feet show."

She did. He chuckled. The camera flashed.

"I'm glad you've only got one ear," Luna stated.

"Really? Why?"

"Because I've only got one mouth."

* * *

Unlike Luna, Molly Weasley was not one of the few people who look good in gold and she knew it. But she was willing to do anything to please her only daughter today.

She rushed over to Charlie and threw her arms around him. "It's so good to see you!" she said. "And Draco! May I hug you, too?"

Awkwardly, he accepted.

"You both look so smart!" She gazed proudly at them, but then raised a hand to Charlie's hair saying, "I just wish you'd cut your hair."

"No Mum," Charlie said, and the coldness in his voice surprised Draco as well as his mother, "you don't ignore me for a year and a half and then dictate the length of my hair."

"I haven't ignored you!" she spluttered.

"Oh the recipe thing is very sweet, but there was nothing to stop you visiting," Charlie insisted.

"Charlie!" said Draco in a hurt tone.

"Your father didn't want …" Molly began, feebly.

"It's not good enough," Charlie insisted. "You're pandering to his bigotry."

"He's just old-fashioned!"

"You let him get away with it. You knew we couldn't come to Britain. Percy's the only one who's been out to see us. It's not difficult, it's as easy as Apparating to anywhere else. You know where we live." Charlie started to walk off.

"Well I loved getting your letters!" Draco said, emotionally. "Thank you."

She hugged him again.

"Thank you for looking after my boy," she said with a sniff.

Charlie dragged Draco away.

"There are some people I want you to meet," he said.

"Who?" Draco asked, still bewildered by Charlie's anger.

"Hermione's parents."

"I thought they were Muggles," Draco replied.

"They are."

"But I've never met a Muggle before!" Draco protested, trying to pull his hand out of Charlie's grip.

"Then you definitely have to meet them!" Charlie tightened his hold, increased his pace.

Draco tried to hide his free hand up his sleeve. With exasperation, Charlie said, "They don't give you warts. It's an old wives' tale!"


	12. Chapter 12

Harry Potter and all characters, settings and situations in this story is © J. K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, Scholastic, Bloomsbury, and all others involved.

All chapter titles are taken from the Ministry of Magic pamphlet, _Towards Tomorrow Together_ by Percy Weasley.

Song lyrics are from _Fill Your Heart_ on David Bowie's **Hunky Dory **album. (Biff Rose/Paul Williams, 1971. EMI)

* * *

CHAPTER TWELVE: All Is Well.

… _Happiness is happening_

_The dragons have been bled_

_Gentleness is everywhere_

_Fear's just in your Head …_

As he and Draco marched over the crowded lawn, Charlie spotted his father walking with equal determination in a different direction. He watched Arthur until the older man turned his head towards them, then Charlie looked away.

Ron was sitting at one of the painted iron tables, talking to a slim, middle-aged woman with perfect teeth and brown bushy hair. She didn't look out of place. Charlie squeezed towards them.

"Hello Dr Granger," he said.

Ron looked up sharply and eyed Charlie warily saying, "Sally, I think you've met my brother Charlie."

"How lovely to see you again, come and sit with us," she stretched out a clean-looking, tanned arm and shook Charlie's hand. Nothing bad happened to him. Draco gaped. She seemed almost normal. Quite nice.

Ron looked awkward, but carried on gamely: "And this is his, erm …" he knew there was a Muggle word for it and that Sally would know it, but he couldn't remember it, "… this is Draco Malfoy."

Sally stood up and took a step forward to shake Draco's hand. Her hand was soft, warm and dry. Normal. He held it and shook it. Nothing bad happened. He suspected his mother might have lied to him.

"Pleased to meet you, Draco. You're Charlie's partner?" Dr Granger sat down again, and indicated to Draco that he should sit next to her. Nodding, he did. She continued, "I think there was a Draco in Hermione's year at school."

"That was me," he answered cautiously, not knowing exactly what Hermione might have told her parents.

"I think I remember a bit of a rivalry, do I? Hermione liked to come top in every subject and I think you were a bit too clever for comfort."

Draco couldn't help but be pleased with that.

"Swot!" Charlie teased gently, taking the chair beside his.

"We've been here a few times recently and met a lot of Weasleys. I'm surprised we haven't met before, Draco," Sally said.

Charlie and Draco exchanged a look, but Ron hastily answered, "They live in Romania."

Sally gave Ron a suspicious look, "Not because they're gay, then?" She turned to face Charlie, "Why Romania?" she asked.

"It's where the dragons are," he explained.

Hermione appeared, looking anxious, just in time to see her mother's shocked reaction.

"Dragons?" Sally asked. "That sounds a bit dangerous!"

In an attempt to bridge the gap between Muggle and Magical, Hermione hastily intervened: "Draco's a pharmacist, Mum. Or the Wizarding equivalent."

Sally was clearly more comfortable with that. Draco wasn't.

Something crashed onto one of the nearby tables. Crockery and flowers flew off it. Everyone looked round, to see gold skirts sweeping everything aside and at the centre of the chaos, George and Luna, their faces pressed tightly together, hands clutching and clawing each other.

Without fuss, Molly Weasley raised her wand; white and gold fabric appeared, fluttering around the oblivious couple, resolving into the shape of a sturdy, soundproofed tent. As it swept closed, Charlie had a glimpse of his father, seated at a table beyond. He had been watching Charlie, but when his son spotted him, Arthur hastily turned to face the man sitting next to him.

"Nice to see George happy," Hermione said weakly.

Her mother leaned in to Charlie and Draco and said conspiratorially, "You're the first same-sex wizarding couple I've met. The Magical Community does seem to be a bit old-fashioned."

"Not now, Mum!" Hermione said with exasperation. "Everywhere seems a bit old-fashioned compared to Brighton!"

"That's where we live," Sally told them, "well, Hove, actually. You must come and visit. You'd love it. I think Ron gets a bit uncomfortable sometimes because it's all so open."

Ron muttered to himself something that could have been, "The sights you see when you can't use your wand." Hermione nudged him sharply. He smiled at his girlfriend's mother and said, "Oh no, all for toleration, me."

"You'll have to come and stay with us!" Sally said excitedly. "Come and meet Alan, my husband. He'll love you!" She jumped up and led the way. Charlie was trying to gauge Draco's reaction. Was there any way he could be persuaded to stay in a Muggle home?

Alan Granger turned out to be the man in earnest conversation with Arthur. As they approached, Mr Weasley walked away.

…_Just remember_

_Lovers never lose_

'_Cause they are Free of thoughts unpure_

_And of thoughts unkind_

_Gentleness clears the soul_

_Love cleans the mind …_

"Here you are! The photographer wants us to cut the cake now," Famous Brave Harry Potter told his Beautiful New Wife. 'Here' was the pantry floor. Ginny was sulking and swigging champagne.

"I hate my brothers!" she said.

"I know," Harry placated, gently prizing the magnum from her grip. "Today, so do I." He drank deeply and gave the bottle back to her. He climbed through the white drifts of net and lace to sit next to her. She pulled the door closed again and it went quite dark, the only light coming from a tiny window near the ceiling. He put his arm round her cold, bare shoulders.

"The only thing in the papers tomorrow will be Percy saving Charlie from certain death," Ginny grumbled.

"The gossip column might just cover George having it off on a table!" Harry said with equal bitterness.

"Can't begrudge him a bit of happiness, I suppose" Ginny conceded.

Harry put his mouth right up to her ear to whisper, "I won't tell anyone."

Ginny giggled. "He's been miserable for two years. It didn't have to be today he stopped," she admitted, guiltily. They chuckled conspiratorially.

"At least there weren't any journalists around for Ron and Charlie's punch-up," Harry said grimly.

"They didn't! Today's supposed to be all about me!" Ginny whined.

Harry gave her a quizzical look.

She continued, pouting, "My big day, my turn in the spotlight!"

"Not 'us'?" Harry prompted.

"Yes, 'us'. But mostly 'me'. The way everyone's going on about them, you'd think it was Charlie and Malfoy's wedding!" She ticked off the list on her fingers: "George shagging, Ron fighting, Percy's heroics, Charlie's bloody boyfriend!"

"Which only leaves Bill, and it was him who talked us into inviting The Most Talked-About Couple." Harry tipped his head right back, but the magnum was empty.

"And his wife is prettier than me even in a hideous gold dress in late pregnancy!"

Harry kissed Ginny's cheek before answering, "Not to me."

"We might as well not be here," Ginny growled.

"Except the photographer wants us to cut the cake now."

_Fill your heart with love today_

_Don't play the game of time_

_Things that happened in the past_

_Only happened in your Mind_

_Only in your Mind - Forget your mind_

_And you'll be Free …_

Molly took Draco off to meet his Aunt Andromeda for the first time. She had little Teddy, his cousin's son, with her.

Charlie headed off to see Hagrid, but he was waylaid by a hand on his arm. It was his father. They looked at each other nervously.

Arthur spoke first, "Your mother told me to come and talk to you."

"Did she tell you what to say?" Charlie asked belligerently.

"No, she just told me I was a stubborn old fool. She said we'd already lost one son and it was up to me to make sure we didn't lose you, too." There was a pause. "And I know she's right. I was shocked. You never told us." Arthur looked accusing.

"Well, I knew how you'd react, didn't I?" Charlie reasoned.

"Not if you'd told us properly, instead of … I was embarrassed," his father admitted. "Those things Malfoy said you'd done to his son. Everyone was talking about it. I didn't want anyone thinking we approved."

"You still on his side?" Charlie asked.

"Oh, don't be like that! I've never been on Lucius Malfoy's side about anything. I kept expecting you to explain yourself. And then it was so long. It made it too difficult to ask you anything. I suppose Percy's right, is he? You're in love with the Malfoy boy?" Arthur asked grudgingly.

"He's not a boy, Dad!" Charlie burst out. "He's Ron's age! I'd better introduce you. He's not going away, you'll have to get used to it."

* * *

"Is that a wand in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?" Charlie asked.

"You know perfectly well it's a wand! These Muggle trouser-things are too tight, I can't hide it properly," Draco snapped back. Charlie gave him a hug.

They were standing on a stony beach looking out towards the charred skeleton of Brighton's West Pier. It was February 2005. Charlie was thirty-two and Draco twenty-five.

The pier had seemed to burn down two years previously, when the Magical business community of East Sussex had decided to create an effective disguise for the largest gay wizard club in Britain. They were creative when it came to cashing in on the Pink Galleon. Charlie kept trying to convince George to extend his business in that direction. The building only appeared to those who approached it with a wand on their person. That was what Charlie and Draco would be doing later on, but now they were waiting to meet someone.

Sally Granger walked down the slope towards them, carrying steaming brown paper bags. They took them gratefully. Draco peered into the bag curiously.

"Cornish Pasties. From that lovely place on Gardener Street," Sally explained.

Charlie watched Draco tuck in. "Muggle food again, Draco? What would your mother say?"

"Nothing coherent since the stroke," Draco answered. "Thank Merlin Auntie Andromeda's taken her in. Once a week's as often as I can put up with her. How are you, Sally?"

Sally replied, "Up to my eyes trying to sort out Hermione and Ron's wedding. They're having the two ceremonies, you know, and the Muggle one's here. But Ron doesn't have a birth certificate or anything of course. Alan's had to go up to Knockturn Alley to see a useful little chap who can apparently sort one out for us."

"I love weddings," Draco mumbled through his meat and swede.

Sally twinkled at him, "Does that mean you two are planning one?"

Draco and Charlie looked at each other, puzzled.

"Erm. We're still both men," Draco explained slowly.

She waved a dismissive hand, "Civil partnership, whatever. Everyone calls it a marriage. You really ought to visit more often, then these things wouldn't be a surprise. The law got passed last year some time."

Sally started walking along the beach towards the Muggle pier. Charlie followed, feeling uncomfortable. He's going to ask me, isn't he? And what will I say? It's all very well, me spending all these years saying I would marry him if I could. I never thought I'd get called on to actually do it.

He watched Draco's beautiful blond head, bending down to chat to Hermione's Muggle mother. A wave swept up suddenly and soaked Sally's right shoe. Surreptitiously, Draco charmed it dry. And Charlie knew what his answer would be. In fact, he wasn't even going to wait to be asked.

He jogged up to the pair in front of him and snatched up Draco's hand. Draco stopped walking and turned to watch Charlie drop to one knee and ask, "Draco. Darling, dearest, most divine Draco. Will you marry me?"

Sally held her breath. The very waves seemed to stop moving until Draco's face split into a grin and he answered, "But of course!"

* * *

EPILOGUE: The Future Will Be Brilliant

"It has to have an astral connection," Luna said.

"What, like a zodiac thing?" Charlie asked.

Draco snorted, but Luna nodded solemnly, "A heavenly body or constellation. Like my name," she insisted.

"Very well, you're doing us a big favour and we agreed you could have a say in the name," Draco conceded. "But not Virgo or Uranus."

"Leo's a zodiac sign!" Charlie offered.

"No son of mine will be a Gryffindor lion!" Draco said firmly.

"He might be my son!" Charlie protested, "That's why we mixed the come before she put it in!"

"She might be a girl!" Luna pointed out. Then she started listing: "Jupiter, Pisces, Libra …" the two men shook their heads. She stroked her rounded belly meditatively. " … Mercury, Capricorn, Scorpio, Venus …"

"Scorpions are cool! They're like mini dragons!" Charlie enthused.

"Scorpius for a boy, Scorpia for a girl!" Draco offered.

The others agreed. Draco lowered his face over Luna's lap and whispered, "Hello Scorpius Weasley-Malfoy."

THE END


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Notes: **Written for round 13 of **daisychain_drab** on LJ.

This is a Side Story to Dragon Chaser. The following occurs between the last chapter and the epilogue. Sections from Dragon Chaser are in italics.

* * *

_Ginny's precious wedding photos! George grinned for the first time in a long time._

_"Lift your skirt up a bit," he whispered, "make sure your feet show."_

_She did. He chuckled. The camera flashed._

_"I'm glad you've only got one ear," Luna stated._

_"Really? Why?"_

_"Because I've only got one mouth."_

The Camera flashed again, but George barely noticed. He was trying to process what Luna had just said, watching pale hair moving towards him, remembering how it felt to feel. The photographer must have taken another shot before he realised what was going on, because when she got back from honeymoon, Ginny sent him that picture: the one where Luna's hands were on his cheeks, one of her naked feet was raised behind her, lifting the hideous gold dress off her white calf, and her face covered the side of his head. His own head was turned so that the hideous blackened mess of his earlessness was towards the camera. His eyebrows had shot up in surprise, his eyes were wide open. But the shocking thing in the picture was his grin.

He had forgotten about grinning. Laughing and smiling were actions which belonged with Fred. Luna had pulled them out of him again. She'd done it with her frank honesty, her empathy and understanding, and with a hot tongue in his ear.

_Something crashed onto one of the nearby tables. Crockery and flowers flew off it. Everyone looked round, to see gold skirts sweeping everything aside and at the centre of the chaos, George and Luna, their faces pressed tightly together, hands clutching and clawing each other._

_Without fuss, Molly Weasley raised her wand; white and gold fabric appeared, fluttering around the oblivious couple, resolving into the shape of a sturdy, soundproofed tent. As it swept closed, Charlie had a glimpse of his father, seated at a table beyond. He had been watching Charlie, but when his son spotted him, Arthur hastily turned to face the man sitting next to him._

_"Nice to see George happy," Hermione said weakly_.

All George knew was Luna. The world narrowed down to her skin, her smell, her mouth on his, her body underneath him. He lay her down on something hard. There was noise, and then there was shade. She murmured, "George, George, George, George…" between nibbles and nips and kisses.

Fabric was in his way, so he pushed, ripped, shoved it out of the way. His hand travelled over silky skin, between her legs, up and up and up. He expected more fabric to block his way, but there was nothing there. Before he expected to, his fingertips had found hair, heat and then wetness.

Happy. This was how happy felt. He recalled a long ago echo of something like this. He pushed a finger into Luna. She lapped at his earlobe and moaned deep into him. His other hand was holding down her thigh. He lifted it to the place where her small, firm breast had spilled out of the top of her bridesmaid dress. His finger moved inside her, his thumb found her clit and he circled round it. Her hand was on the front of his trousers; he rubbed his erection against her palm.

He opened his eyes briefly and was surprised to see the edge of a fork prong, it flashed into his mind that he was at his sister's wedding, then the outside world was gone again. It was swept away by the rhythm of their hands, hers was inside his underwear now.

After they came the noises gradually returned. So did the hardness of the table, the poke of porcelain at his shoulder. Then remembrance of where they were. George kissed Luna's cheek. He eased his weight off her, and lowered her skirts, but he didn't let go of her. He was never going to let go of her again.

"Ginny's going to kill me," he croaked, but he was grinning.

"If I was Ginny then I would want everyone else to be happy and in love like me. Why will she mind?" Luna asked. There was the cutest little vertical line creasing the centre of her forehead.

George's heart swelled and heated. He couldn't breathe, he could hardly see. "Yes. You would."

And, of course, Ginny did mind. She was furious with them for fracturing the decorum of her big day. More than that, she'd been upstaged. But she was more furious with Charlie because of Malfoys, and with Ron for fighting, and with Fleur for being so beautiful. So George got away with it.

George had never liked Malfoy. When he took Charlie away from the family just after they lost Fred, he hated him. Luna liked him, though. After their first week together, which they spent in bed, it was Malfoy and Charlie that Luna wanted to see first. George had to admit that he wanted to see Charlie again.

A few years later, it was Charlie and Draco's Civil Partnership for which the whole family were gathered. There was a lot of teasing beforehand: "We know how weddings get you two, but try not to make out on one of the tables this time!" George took it calmly enough, but he and Luna still managed a grope in the broom cupboard at the Registry Office, and a shag in the Manor's maze at the reception. And a blowjob in a dark corner of the ballroom during the evening do.

They did like weddings. But they didn't want their own. Luna had The Quibbler; George had Wheezes; they had a laugh and they had lots of sex. What they didn't have is a certificate, babies or a shared house. They didn't want any of that. Luna wasn't like other women. In any respect, but particularly in that. George was constantly amazed and grateful that he'd found her. Or had she found him?

"I owe Draco Malfoy a great deal, you know," Luna said one night.

George knew that something had happened during the war, but he hadn't pried. She would tell him when she was ready, he reasoned. It looked as though she was ready.

He brought them each a mug of Irish Coffee and they drank it in his bed. He waited.

"He was so good to me. He didn't rape me."

George spluttered. Hot, astringent liquid seared his nose. "He what?"

"That was nice of him, wasn't it?"

"I should think that's the base line—hang on!" George's guts went cold and his fingers clutched her arm. He could barely get the words out. "There wasn't… did anyone not manage that?"

Her laugh was unexpected. "No, silly. Nobody raped me."

"Then what's so special about Malfoy?"

"He had orders. From You Know Who. He defied The Dark Lord so that I wouldn't have to be raped."

George nursed that knowledge for a moment as he mopped the Irish coffee off their skin with the sheet.

"Yeah. That was brave. I'll give him that."

"He makes your brother happy."

"Yeah, yeah. I know. And he makes great apple sour dough cake."

"I'd like to do something nice for them," Luna said. "They are nice people."

"Ok. Well why don't we invite them round for dinner again or something? You could do another interview with him to publicise his Potion business—"

"I'm going to have his baby."

He should have learned the first time. But, no, his Irish coffee sprayed out once again. His brain tried to catch up. He said, "But he's a—when did you-?"

Luna gazed beatifically at him. She didn't understand; she waited for him to explain.

His thoughts slowly ground down to a more sensible conclusion than his first. "You mean you want to offer to carry a baby for them."

"That's what I said."

"Yeah. Yeah. I suppose it is." He mopped himself up and thought about it. It wasn't like he wanted her to have his baby. He knew he couldn't go through what his parents had gone through when Fred died. He knew he would be scared all day every day of having such a loss again. They had discussed it. She didn't want to leave an orphan as her mother had done. It wasn't like he had any right to tell her what to do with her body. She wasn't asking permission. It was nice of her to let him know before she did it. He saw how much Charlie hurt when he looked at baby James, believing he had sacrificed family life. He knew how good Draco was with children. "We can still have rumpy pumpy when you're pregnant, can't we?"

"Of course we can. I don't see why not."

He placed his hand on her bare, flat belly and tried to imagine it swelling.

"Cool," he said. "We should have that dinner with them, talk to them about it then."

Luna thought for a moment. "I'm doing the pregnancy; you should cook."

"_It has to have an astral connection," Luna said._

_"What, like a zodiac thing?" Charlie asked._

_Draco snorted, but Luna nodded solemnly, "A heavenly body or constellation. Like my name," she insisted._

_"Very well, you're doing us a big favour and we agreed you could have a say in the name," Draco conceded. "But not Virgo or Uranus."_

_"Leo's a zodiac sign!" Charlie offered._

_"No son of mine will be a Gryffindor lion!" Draco said firmly._

_"He might be my son!" Charlie protested, "That's why we mixed the come before she put it in!"_

_"She might be a girl!" Luna pointed out. Then she started listing: "Jupiter, Pisces, Libra …" the two men shook their heads. She stroked her rounded belly meditatively. " … Mercury, Capricorn, Scorpio, Venus …"_

_"Scorpions are cool! They're like mini dragons!" Charlie enthused._

_"Scorpius for a boy, Scorpia for a girl!" Draco offered.__The others agreed. Draco lowered his face over Luna's lap and whispered, "Hello Scorpius Weasley-Malfoy."_


End file.
